Candy Striping
by Arianna-Janae
Summary: Seductively Sexy Contest Cherry-popping runner up. A not-so-squeaky clean Bella ends up doing community service. Unlucky Bella has a knack for finding trouble.In the world of the supernatural, that's a problem.Some OOC,contains lemon and brief drug use.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there, lovelies. This story was originally written as a One Shot for the Seductively Sexy contest. Now it's 14 Chapter and counting! **

**Be prepared for an OOC Bella, a _very_ OOC Edward, and a slightly OOC everyone else.**

**For those of you just joining us, the lovely and talented Raindropsoup has graciously agreed to beta for me. We are in the process of going through each chapter and editing out all of my boo boos to make this story better than it was.**

**Rated M for lemons. Also includes references to under-aged drug use.**

**I don't own Twilight, I just like to play with SM's characters. =)  
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><p><strong>Candy Striping<strong>

It's time for my shift at the hospital. And in case you're wondering, I'm not one of those important people like a doctor, nurse, or a janitor. No, I'm a candy striper. Yup, the cheerer-upper in red and white from the olden days. Unfortunately, I live in bum-fuck Forks, Washington—where the term "olden days" pretty much sums things up.

I squeak past the sliding glass doors in my regulation white patent leather shoes and make my way to the nurse's station to see which wing I'm assigned to. Shit. Queen-bitch nurse-in-charge looks up from her _Ladies Home Journal_ to scrutinize me. I plant my best fake smile firmly on my face, hoping she doesn't notice that I skipped on the pantyhose today. I'm sorry, but how am I expected to be cheery when I've got itchy nylon riding up my ass crack? Besides, my legs are pale enough to pass for off-white hose.

"Hello, Bella." She glances quickly at the clock on the wall behind me. "Humph, on time for once. Surprise, surprise. You've got the children's wing tonight. Rooms twenty-six through seventy-nine. And try not to make anyone cry today."

Great, the chemo kids. How do you sugar-coat cancer? I don't know how the doctors and nurses do it day in and day out. I only have two more months of volunteering left. Well actually, volunteering _probably _isn't the right word. It's more like court-mandated community service. No, I wish I could say I'm doing this for brownie points for college applications. Unfortunately, that isn't the case.

I got into a _little_ trouble down at the Res. When I say a little, I really mean a fuck-storm. The guys just _happened_ to stumble upon Quill senior's stash of peyote. Yeah, in retrospect it was a bad idea. Of course, at the time we thought we were fucking brilliant. Peyote is supposed to be a drug that allows inner spiritual reflection. The pack all thought it would help them connect with their spirit wolves. I was just along for the ride. And it was _one hell_ of a ride.

It didn't take long for the campfire to come alive. The first animal that came through the fire was a wolf—no surprise here. The whole pack's eyes reflected the flames from the wolf's form. It was entrancing to see the way their eyes danced and followed the wolf's every move. Soon the flames transformed into a phoenix. My phoenix. She flapped her wings sending hot cinders all over me. My skin began to burn. I tore off my clothes and rolled in the sand to put the fire out, you know, like you do when you're on fire. Lulu, my phoenix, told me to fly with her, and apparently I did – all over town. There's video evidence of me from Newton's Outfitter's surveillance cameras running around, frantically flapping my arms while buck-ass naked. And that's how I got slapped with public indecency. My pixelated nakedness even made the evening news. Yeah, I'm _real_ popular. At least I have some anonymity in the kid's wing, with the younger kids anyway.

So now, I'm making my way down the children's wing, wishing I could be anywhere else but here, when the only perk of the job makes his appearance— Doctor McDreamy. What? So I watch _Grey's_. It's like job training, only if this was a hospital staffed by exceptionally hot doctors with raging hormones and low moral standards. A girl can dream, can't she? In all reality, McDreamy really isn't my type. He's a little too old, too nice, and too married. But how anyone could think he passes for human is beyond me. Yeah, he's a vampire. _Gasp_. Not a big shock when you've grown up with the legends of the "cold ones". Charlie never bought into it— he's too logical. But even as a child I could see the truth in the elders' eyes as they recounted their stories— the history of the tribe.

"Hi, Bella." McDreamy looks up from his patient's chart with a warm smile.

"Hi, Dr. Cullen. How are things going tonight?" I'm hoping by some miracle he'll tell me all the kids are sound asleep.

"Two discharges," he says, gesturing to the chart. "And one new admit."

"Discharges, that sounds good." His smile falters for a moment. He seems to struggle for a response. I have a pretty good idea what this means. Most of the kids on this wing aren't too bad off. Frankly, the hospital doesn't have the state-of-the-art equipment needed to treat the aggressive cancers. So, if kids are being discharged, it either means that they are well enough to go home, or sick enough to be transferred somewhere else. Dr. Cullen always miraculously manages to find some obscure grant that funds treatment for the severe cases.

"Any rooms I should avoid?"

"Jenna in thirty-four is fast asleep. Michael in fifty-two isn't reacting well to the chemotherapy, and Alex in sixty-three is spiking a fever. That only leaves you twelve." I breathe a sigh of relief. Twelve I can handle. A few stories, some balloon animals— I'm really good at snakes— and I'll be done. Don't get me wrong, I like kids. In fact, that's the reason I _don't_ like visiting this wing. Kids are supposed to be outside playing and getting into trouble. They're too young to deal with life and death. I didn't have cancer, but I really didn't have much of a childhood either. After Mom and Charlie divorced, Renee started living her second childhood. I guess her second adolescence would be more appropriate. At the young age of eight, I played the role of the girlfriend, helping her to get over her most recent break-up with the never-ending line of bastards she always ended up dating. I was relieved when she finally found Phil, and more relieved when I packed my bags to move here. Sure, I missed Phoenix, but Charlie isn't in need of parenting. All he needs is a cook – and I'm more than happy to oblige.

"Well, I'll see you later, Bella." Dr. Cullen's crotch slowly came into view as I break out of my daze. Holy hell, how long have I been staring at his junk? My gaze snaps up to his face to see his uncomfortable expression.

"Um, b-bye." I stammer, turning quickly before he can see my face turn into a tomato. I walk straight into the room directly in front of me, not bothering to look at the room number. I look at the boy sitting up in bed staring at me. He doesn't look so good. Then again, that's kind of the status quo around here.

I need to switch gears. Time to do my job. There are kids who need cheering up, and I'm not dressed up like a human candy cane for nothing. Putting on my best enthusiastic smile, I approach the bed while digging in my pockets for a balloon.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Black," The boy responds, apathetic. Well, he sure isn't going to make this easy.

"Alright, what's your second favorite color?" The corners of my mouth twitch trying to maintain my grin.

"Brown."

"Okay. Well, I don't have black or brown, so how about blue?"

"No."

"Blue it is. Do you want a snake?" The enthusiasm in my voice is now bordering on demented.

"I don't like snakes."

"Of course you don't." I'll have to get inventive. "How about a worm?"

There was no immediate response this time, so I take that as a yes and start blowing up his balloon. Once the phallic object reaches a good two feet, I tie it off and whip out my sharpie. Now there's something I just _love_ about the sound a sharpie makes as you write on a balloon. Seriously, there's nothing else like it.

Satisfied that little Timmy's still quiet, I get into my work. " … two little eyes … a worm's gotta have segments right ..." Wormy looks _awesome!_ I cap my sharpie and give Wormy to the boy. Crap, he just went from not looking so hot to literally turning a sullen shade of green. He bucks upright in bed, his cheeks suddenly balloon and …. _Oh shit!_ He proceeds to projectile vomit all over me. And when I say projectile, I mean I feel it splatter on my face and hair with such velocity that I feel like I'm standing in a wind tunnel—a wind tunnel that spits broccoli cheese soup and stomach acid.

"You must be Michael." I wipe as much vomit from my face as possible and press Michael's call button. Michael is laughing now, his arms clutching his stomach. I hear a muffled "my tummy hurts" between his laughs. This is information I could have used, oh, about _two_ minutes ago.

"Can I help you?" The nurse's voice sounds on the intercom.

"Clean up on isle fifty-two. Mike's lost his lunch."

Well, mission accomplished, I had the kid laughing. But I'm afraid that's all the entertainment I have in store for tonight. I slosh out to the nurses' station and see one of the Betty's hand fly up to her mouth to cover her shock at the sight of me.

"Oh, you poor thing! There's more uniforms in the utility closet." She scuttles around the desk and to the clean linens cart and grabs several towels. "Room sixty is vacant. Go run through the shower real quick, hun." She placed the towels in my arms. God bless her for not laughing.

I make my way to room sixty, trying hard not to leave too much destruction in my path. As promised, the room is empty. It looks like the cleaning lady had just been here. The beds are pristine, mitered edges and wrinkle free. Luckily, the shower is the first door on my left, so the damage I cause is pretty much contained.

I open the door, flipping on the light switch. A cutesy fish-themed bathroom stares back at me, and I can care less at this point. I nearly rip the shower curtain off the rod to turn on the water. I slither out of my clothes and wait the millennia it takes for the water to warm up to a suitable temperature.

The one inch by two inch bar of complementary soap isn't enough. After I wash my hair for the third time, I use the rest of the two-in-one as a body wash. I'm taking entirely too much time, but I really don't care. Wearing someone else's stomach contents warrants a long shower in my book. I even use the lotion, which finally drowns out the smell of chemo-vomit. I feel like a person again.

With a towel wrapped around me, I step out to the vanity area to dig for a trash bag for my clothes. Truth be told, I'm not sure if they're even salvageable. I quickly come to a striking realization once I tie the bag closed. I have no clothes— no _clean_ clothes.

In my need to get clean, I completely skipped the trip to the utility closet. I glance at the neatly made beds, hoping that Betty realized my slip up and brought me a uniform. No-such-luck.

Tiptoeing to the door, I open it just wide enough for a view of the nurses' station. Betty isn't there. _No one_ _is_ _there_. I run back to the bed clutching my towel tight under my arms and jab the call button repeatedly. Surely, someone will see the blinking light outside the room and come to my rescue. Preferably someone nice – and female.

I pace the room, my bare feet smacking loudly across the linoleum floors. Then, I have to pee. I can't help it. I'm like one of those annoying little dogs that pees all over your shoe when they get excited. So I close the bathroom door, and of course, there's no lock. _Of course_. What a sight, me peeing on the kiddy toilet, which I swear is like two inches off the ground.

Someone's going to walk in here, right at this moment. Finding me, with my knees up to my chest, wearing only a towel while peeing on a miniature toilet. I swear it'll be Newton's Outfitters all over again, except I can't blame it on the peyote this time.

By the grace of God, I'm allowed to pee in privacy. I check again, and the nurse's station is _still_ deserted. I look down both hallways, poking my head out the door. The place seems deserted. Now's my time.

I glance down at my towel, making sure all the naughty bits are covered, and make a mad dash for the utility closet.

I can't believe my luck. _I make it!_ Breathing a sigh of relief, I begin the task of finding a new uniform. _Awesome_. The first clothing my waiting hands touch is a size small. My luck's turning up. Sure, I'll be going commando for the rest of the evening, and I still have the daunting task of cleaning my shoes, but at least I have clean clothes.

I drop the towel to the floor and am just about to pull the shirt over my head when I hear the barely audible click of the door shutting. Before I can turn around the small room is flooded with a familiar scent – _vampire_. I crumple to the floor, grasping my towel as quick as I can to shield myself. There's really no point, not with vampire senses.

I'm shocked when I find myself staring back at a set a burgundy eyes instead of the golden I'm expecting. I can't help the choked gasp that escapes me. Embarrassment quickly turns to fear when I see the animalistic way he looks at me. He towers over my crouching form. The overhead lighting reflecting off each devastatingly perfect angle of his chiseled face. They're all like that— _perfect_. _Perfect, but deadly_.

Taking a deep breath, I try to pull myself together. Rising from my crouch, I clutch my towel tighter to me and hold my head up, trying to convey some sense of strength.

"I know what you are." My voice wavers more than I like. He cocks his head to the side like a predator studying his prey.

"The Janitor?"

"No, _a vampire_." I whisper.

"Oh, well, I suppose that changes things." He brings his hand up to rub his chin as he contemplates me. _I'm going to die_. The reality of that thought sinks into my bones. Someone will find me later, naked in the utility closet.

I refuse to play the part of the sniveling victim begging for her life. "Can we get this over with?"

His left eyebrow arches in surprise. "I guess there's no beatin' around the bush with you." He smiles and takes a step closer, closing the small space between us.

"Just make it quick," I demand once he's standing before me. I try to hold his gaze, but fail miserably.

"Well, Ma'am, I'm afraid that's not how I do things. I prefer to take my time." He tenderly brushes a piece of damp hair away from my face. His cool breath assaults me. His eyes draw me in with their intensity. Suddenly my fear is replaced by something else. His fingers make a scorching white hot path from my temple to the junction of my neck and shoulder. His hands stop there, but the path continues before finally settling between my legs.

He bows his head to my neck, placing cool kisses there. For a moment, I forget that he's a vampire, but now, with his mouth on my flesh – and so close to the blood that runs through my veins— my breath hitches in my throat.

"Will it hurt?" I whisper.

"No. I promise to be gentle," he says against my skin, his cool breath tickling my flesh. His hands are on me now; one arm snaking around my waist and pulling me closer. His fingers tangle into the hair at the base of my neck, tugging gently. And fuck me if I'm not completely turned on by having my hair pulled. Pressed up against him I can feel every muscle of his strong torso. I can't help myself. My hands circle around him, pulling myself even closer, gripping his broad shoulders. He groans and I hear the plop of my towel hitting the floor. I can care less at this point.

He pulls the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing my gaze to meet his. My eyes look into his black ones, only a thin circle of red is visible in his current state of hunger. Suddenly, his mouth is on mine, coaxing my lips to part. The taste of him is exquisite—the warmth of a crackling fireplace with cinnamon and cloves. His tongue swirls in my mouth, his cool sweet breath making me dizzy. Without thinking, I submit to this stranger— a dangerous stranger. Only I could be turned on moments before my own death. Well, at least I'll be going out with a bang. I return his kiss with abandon, matching his own intensity. His large hands gingerly cup my face now, as if he suddenly realizes how fragile I am. He gently grazes his tongue along my top lip.

"You taste amazin'," he purrs with a shiver. My hands drift up to his wrists, holding them in place, unwilling to let him push me away. I peer up at him now under my lashes, trying my best '_sexy face'_ as I hitch one leg around his waist. A throaty growl resonates in his chest, and in one swift motion, he grabs my ass, grinding himself against me.

_Oh dear Lord_, he's huge. I can't hide the look of shock that crosses my face.

"I promised I would be gentle with ya, darlin. And I'm a man of my word." He catches my bottom lip, pulling it between his before sucking and kissing his way down my neck. His teeth occasionally graze my flesh, causing me to gasp. It's not from fear now—no, that's been replaced by _need_. He worships each inch of my flesh while grinding his hips into me. Every kiss and tease seems like heaven and hell wrapped in one.

He captures my nipple with his mouth, and I nearly come right then and there. A moan escapes me, and suddenly, he's gone. I open my eyes in shock, almost dropping to the floor. There before me is a God. My eyes take in every inch of him greedily. I lick my lips in anticipation. In that split second, he has completely disrobed. Under the florescent light, I can see silvery marks all over his flesh, little crescent shapes repeat over and over on the skin of his arms and chest. He is breathtakingly beautiful.

He stalks toward me stopping a foot away, a devilish smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. In my half crouch, I can't help but stare at his massive cock as it stands at attention. It's just as beautiful as the rest of him; _pale white and hard as a rock_, I think with a smile. It twitches then, and my eyes flicker to his to see his eyebrows twitch too. If that isn't a come-hither look, then I don't know what is. And like the good little girl that I am, I obey.

Rising from my crouch I take a step toward him. Now, it's his turn to fall into a crouch at my feet. He runs one hand down my body, sending quivers of anticipation throughout. His hand continues over my belly and down my inner thigh, touching everywhere except where I want to be touched the most.

"I have to make sure yer ready for me."

"I'm ready." I reply, my voice shaking with want. His finger dips inside me then and I feel my knees buckle. I brace myself against the metal shelving.

"Not quite, but close." He breathes huskily. His eyes lock with mine as he bent towards me, flicking his tongue over my sensitive nub while his fingers continue to dip inside me.

"Oh, dear God." I moan. He increases his pace, flicking and sucking with his tongue before adding another finger, and then another. I can feel the warmth spreading through my body.

He straightens up from his crouch, his fingers continuing their work. He withdraws them abruptly, roughly grabs my hips, and pushes his cock into me to the hilt. I cry out with an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain, tightening my grip on the shelves while wrapping my legs around his waist. He grinds into me without restraint, pumping himself in and out at an unnatural speed.

Letting go of the shelves, I wrap my arms around his back and dig my nails into his shoulders, knowing full and well I'll leave no marks. I have to bury my head into the crook of his neck to avoid the screams that protest in my chest. I can feel my body pulsating, each and every muscle clenching with my approaching release. My mouth seeks his, urgent. I need him, _all_ of him. He growls into my mouth, bucking his hips wildly as we both reach our climax together.

Reluctantly, I unwind myself from him. I feel like I'm coming down from the clouds as my feet touch the cold floor. It's back to reality now. I'm naked, drenched in my own sweat and standing in front of the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.

He pulls his clothes from a nearby shelf, all neatly folded into a pile, and begins to put his clothes back on. I frown, jutting my bottom lip out in a pout.

"Aw, don't look at me like that. We both have to get back to work." He chides while buckling his belt, and an impossible smirk graces his face.

"I need another shower." I muter to myself, reluctantly getting a new uniform from the shelf behind me.

"I'd like to join you fer that. When'd you get off?"

_When you're inside me_. "At nine."

"Me too." He smiles. "The name's Peter by the way."

Oh shit, I just realize I screwed a guy without even knowing his name, in the supply closet … in the _children's_ wing of the hospital.

"I'm Bella." I mumble timidly while fidgeting with the strap of my smock. In a split second, he's right in front of me, a cool finger under my chin lifting my face to his. He plants the chastest of kisses lightly on my lips.

"So how does a vampire end up as a Janitor?" Leave it to me to completely ruin a tender moment.

He chuckles. "Carlisle suggested I take the position. My brother, Jasper, is his adopted son. Jasper, well he's helpin' me through a tough time right now. I knew I'd need somethin' to keep me busy, and I also needed to prove my self-control to the good doctor." He bends his head to mine, whispering in my ear. "He thinks I can't control my … _urges_." He pulls away, laughing. "He's right on one count at least. You were jus' _too_ temptin'. I guess I'm a sucker for a girl in uniform."

I can't help but point out the obvious. "Um, I was naked when you first saw me."

"Details." He gives me one last devastating smile before walking out the door … leaving me completely speechless.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter was beta'd by the most-awesomeness Raindropsoup. *squeezes* She's the awesomeness.**

**Disclaimers still apply, rated M, yadda yadda yadda ...  
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><p><strong>Aftermath<strong>

I'm alone in the supply closet, trying to digest what just happened.

_I totally just lost my V-card_, I thought. No, not _that_ v-card, I mean the sex-with-a-vampire card. Well, I guess if we're really keeping track here, I'd already lost my W-card—_werewolf_. I guess I'll have to find one of those half-human/half-horse things if I want to keep up the trend of supernatural screwing.

And my therapist says I have issues with intimacy. I was just 'intimate' with a complete stranger. How could I have a problem with intimacy? Explain _that_, Freud. Never mind the mental stumble I do every time I think about the word 'intimacy'.

I have to get back to work. _Work_. Just the thought of it brings a frown to my face. Talk about a mood killer.

I look around for a mirror or some reflective surface that I can examine myself in. There's a paper towel dispenser by the sink. That'll have to do.

Damn, sex hair. Where's a hair brush when you need one? Running my fingers through the tangled mess, I attempt to make some improvement. Retrieving the rubber band from my wrist—I always keep one handy—I twist my hair into a messy bun. Still looking into the dispenser, I take survey of my face.

My cheeks are still flushed, my lips plump with increased blood flow. No, not _those _lips. Don't think about _those_ lips. Peter's molten eyes appear in front of my vision, entrancing. My pulse quickens in response as a heat renews between my legs. "Unf."

"Calm down." I command myself, shaking away his image from my head. "Pull yourself together." I give myself a full once-over, only to find that I'm still barefoot. My shoes are probably still covered in Mike's stomach contents in Room 60. _Shit_. I make my way to the door, stumbling along the way. _Damned post-sex jello-legs_.

Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle. I find that the hallways outside are pretty much unchanged. I don't really know what I was expecting to find—the whole staff waiting outside the door to congratulate me on my most recent display of whorishness? Another point to peyote girl.

"There you are!" Nurse Betty exclaims from around the corner. "You-know-who has been looking for you." She gives a slight shake of her head as she crosses her arms across her chest.  
>Should I know what that means? Voldemort? McDreamy? Peter? Oh crap, it's Peter. <em>'McSteamy,'<em> my mind provides. Yup, Peter is now _my_ _McSteamy_.

"Where are your shoes, Bella?" Betty seems worked up in a tizzy. I have no idea what's going on in her sweet little head, but her eyes look crazed and her foot's tapping incessantly.

"Um, they're still covered in … yeah." I point to Room 60.

She gets behind me, ushering me towards the hospital room."Hurry. Go get them."

"Okay … " I do as she instructs and quickly wash my shoes in the sink. There's nothing like the feeling of putting wet shoes back on your bare feet._ I'll have blisters tomorrow because of_ _this_.  
>I return to the nurse's station where Betty is rifling through a patient's chart—"look-busy-work," as I call it.<p>

"Hey … " I'm just about to ask Betty what the hell is going on, when I feel a single clammy finger run up the length of my leg, knocking the breath right out of my lungs. I spin around to find Miss-Queen-bitch-nurse-in-charge herself with an angry glare on her fugly face.

"Not in regulation uniform _again_, Bella. I'll have to doc your time for that. At the rate you're going, you'll be here forever," she gloats, her head bobbing back and forth like a bobble-head as she jots something down on her clipboard.

"Sure, go right ahead. Add to my 'fun'…" I attempt to graciously accept my fate, until Betty cuts me off.

"She got vomit all over her, Cindy. She had to get a new uniform from the closet, and we don't keep any hose on hand. Can you give her a break just this once? She's had a rough night."

'_Rough' night, indeed_, I struggle to keep a straight face, biting down on my lip to stop from grinning. _Cindy _looks me up and down, scrutinizing my disheveled appearance.

"I'll let it slide this one time, Swan."

"Yes Ma'am." I fight the urge to salute her. As it is, she does a complete about face, spinning on her left foot before marching off in the other direction. I immediately turn to Betty.

"Thank you, Betty. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"If I knew what was good for me, Bella, I'd stop bailing you out of trouble so you'll stick around here longer. You keep things interesting. Without you, it'd be the same ol' same ol', day in and day out."

"Glad I could serve as your entertainment, Betty." Making a large display, I go into a sweeping bow.  
>A throat clears behind me as I feel a gust of fresh air reach my naughty-bits. Shit, <em>I forgot there's no underoos under there<em>. I fling my hands behind me, pulling in vain at the hem of my skirt. I spin around to find none other than McDreamy himself.

Why couldn't it have been—oh, I don't know— _anyone _else but him?

"Bella, I need to speak with you." There is tension in his eyes, and it's not the 'this is very awkward' type of tension. He looks fearful.

"Um, okay? Is something wrong?" I can't help but notice his eyes canvasing me. Not in a lewd way, but more like the way a doctor assesses a patient.

"No, I would hope not. I'm afraid this is a private matter, though." He glances at Betty, who looks like she's ready to pop some popcorn and settle in for a show. "Can I speak to you in my office?"

"Um, yeah. Sure." My imagination begins to run wild with possibilities as to what has Dr. Cullen so worried. For as long as I've been "volunteering" here, I've never seen him like this. Is it one of the kids? Please, God, don't let it be one of the kids.

As we pass by each florescent light along the hallway, I feel the tension weighing down on me. Did he think I was propositioning him? With my luck, I'm going to get slapped with a sexual-harassment suit. Police Chief Swan will be _so_ proud of his only daughter. _Maybe I'll even make the news again_, I think as Dr. Cullen opens the door to his office. He stands aside to let me enter and then shuts the door behind us.

I'm under the microscope now. At least that's what it feels like under his discerning eyes. He seems to be looking for something.

"I … ah … heard about what happened earlier. Are you all right?" He asks, concern coloring his voice.

"I'm fine." It comes out more like a question, until I realize why he's concerned. He probably found out about the whole vomiting incident. "It was nothing really. After a shower and a change of clothes, it's like it never even happened."

He continued to stare at me, dumbfounded.

"Oh, you don't think this is _your_ fault do you? Seriously, Dr. Cullen. I'm all right." I throw my hands up in the air, trying to convey to him that it's really not that big of a deal, when he catches my wrist in his hand. His cold touch is an instant reminder of another set of cool hands. A chill of excitement brings goose bumps to my flesh.

Delicately, Dr. Cullen rotates my wrist, exposing the backside of my upper arm. I twist my head to see what he's looking at. Purplish-blue bruises mark the skin of my arm, in the shape of fingers—Peter's fingers. My eyes meet Dr. Cullen's, and I know that he _knows_.

Heat surges to my cheeks, and I try to pull away from his touch. I can't help but feel my privacy violated. All my dirty laundry, right on display in front of him.

"He _did_ hurt you."

"I didn't even know there was a bruise there. He didn't do it on purpose. I'm fine, Dr. Cullen. Really, I am."

Mumbling something to himself too low for me to hear, he doesn't seem to register my words.

"Really." I repeat more forcefully this time. "Peter didn't hurt me."

"This was a horrible idea. He wasn't ready for this." Dr. Cullen mutters to himself. I'm not even sure he intends for me to hear him, but I do, and I don't like it. I can't help but feel like I've done something wrong.

"I'm sorry." My apology draws his attention.

"No, Bella. You have nothing to be sorry about. You did nothing wrong. I just want to make sure that you're all right. It's just that Peter ... well, he came to us during a difficult time. I may have inadvertently pushed him to do something he clearly wasn't ready for. If anything, this is my fault."  
>How do I respond to <em>that<em>? It seems he's under the impression that I'm somehow the victim here.

"Peter didn't … force me to do anything against my will if that's what you're thinking." This is _so_ not a conversation I want to be having right now.

"No, but I do know that he can be … _persuasive_. Regardless, it won't happen again. You can be sure of that." I feel my heart sinking in my chest. I also think I heard my pussy scream in protest.

"I _want_ to see Peter again. In fact, I'm supposed to meet him after my shift." I cross my arms over my chest in an act of defiance.

"That's not the best of ideas, Bella."

"Why not?"

"It's … hard to explain."

"Well, if you can't give me a reason, then I fail to see your point." Before losing my gumption, I march straight out of his office, slamming the door in my wake.

_That felt pretty damn good_. I smile inwardly. Speeding away from Dr. Cullen's office, I return to the children's wing, knowing that McDreamy won't attempt to continue that conversation in public.  
>I know I should be thankful that he seems so concerned for my well-being, but I can't help but feel he's coming across a bit high-handed. Rebellious Bella has some issues with that. I hate it when people make decisions for me '<em>in my best interest.'<em> Sure, I know that on many levels Peter is quite dangerous—more dangerous than the bunny-munching Cullens.  
>I just can't be scared of Peter. There's something about him … I just know that he won't hurt me. McDreamy probably thinks he's going to make a McSandwich out of me, but for some reason, I know that won't happen.<p>

Betty interrupts me from my 'look-busy work.'  
>"So, what was that all about?" She asks expectantly. It's no secret that pretty much every member of the female staff here has the hots for McDreamy. Husbands and boyfriends aside, most of them would ditch it all for one night with 'The Doctor.'<p>

"Oh, that. It was nothing, Betty."

"It didn't look like nothing. You aren't holding out on me, are you?"

"No. He just wanted to make sure I was all right after the whole vomiting thing earlier."  
>Betty lets out a long McDreamy sigh as she stares off into space. 8:43 p.m.. I'm almost out of here. My nerves flare to life with a thought. <em>Was he serious about the shower thing? <em>What happened in the closet had completely taken me by surprise. One minute I think I'm going to be vampire lunch, and the next … well, I guess I ended up as a desert.

I clamp my legs shut tight at the memory. _Of all days to be stuck sans-undies_. I feel a flush spread across my skin and settle at the apex of my legs. _Not now_. I tug uncomfortably at the collar of my shirt as the temperature in the room seems to sky-rocket.

_Just think of something cool_. His cool hands on my skin immediately come to mind. _Shit, not working_. I feel a bead of sweat form along my brow.

Okay, think of something, cold. Ice is cold. I envision Peter running an ice cube between my …. _Seriously not helping!_

Next, I try counting ceiling tiles. That keeps me busy for a total of three minutes. After counting the linoleum tiles _and _re-organizing all the patients' charts, I am now watching the second hand of the clock make its painstakingly long trip around the clock face.

_How the hell did McDreamy know about the closet escapade?_ When the thought pops into my head, I wonder why I hadn't thought of it sooner. Did Peter blab? That seems kind of a chick thing to do, and Peter didn't strike me as that type. Did he hear us? I don't know if I could handle coming to work every day if that's the case.

I distinctly remember a camping trip a few years back with Rachel and Becca, Jake's sisters. The young couple camped next to us was getting it on "Muskrat Love" style a mere five feet away from our campfire. No amount of snickering or cat-calling could deter the pair's … enthusiasm. The next morning when the young couple emerges from their earth pimple, we realize it's Sam and Leah from the Res. To this day, four years later, I still can't shake the memory of the sound of their climax every time I see them. And that's really more information than I needed to know about them. _Ever_.  
>"Hun, it's 9:06. I thought you'd be gone by now. No need for you to be the over-achiever." Betty's voice brings me back to reality. Fuck, I'm not standing up McSteamy and some awesomely-steamy shower sex.<p>

I scramble toward the front lobby, realizing that Peter and I really didn't establish a meeting point. _Fuck_. _Fuck. Fuck_. I make it to the lobby to find Dr. Cullen, waiting there with his white lab coat draped over his arms. He looks like he's waiting for someone. _Shit_. I realize he's waiting for me as he starts heading my direction.

I shake my head, not really wanting to continue this conversation right now.

"Where's Peter?" I blurt without even thinking. That must be the naughty bits talking. They seem a little insistent.

"He's already on his way home, Bella. But we did have an interesting conversation before he left."  
><em>Peachy<em>. Peter_ is_ a blabber.

"Well, I guess the pussy is out of the bag then." My hand flew to my mouth. "Cat. I meant the _cat_ is out of the bag." McDreamy must think my natural skin tone is beet-red by now.

"I would like for you to come to our house, Bella. There is more we need to discuss."

"Why can't we talk about it now? Here."

"This is not the place. I would prefer some place more … private." Oh, this didn't sound good at all. Who knows what I'd be walking into? Vampire orgy? Vampire … dinner? I don't think he's inviting me to his home to play Scrabble.

"Please, Dr. Cullen, can I just go home?" A tinge of fear is evident in my voice. I don't like it.

"I promise no harm will come to you. We just have some questions to ask. I understand that you … _know_ about us." His voice falls to almost a whisper at the last part.

_Of course, you idiot. They want to know how you know what they are._

"Oh. Um, yeah. I guess that's all right. Can I follow you there?"

Dr. Cullen smiles warmly at me. He seems relieved and nods his head. Following him out to the parking lot, I make my way toward my red, rusty heap-o-junk as he climbs in his sleek Mercedes. My Chevy lurches to life, and I follow McDreamy out of the parking lot.

Doubt creeps into my mind on the long journey there. The dark, winding road seems to be taking me further and further away from civilization—from humanity. _I know their secret_. Maybe there's a price to pay for knowing.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter has been edited by the fuck-awesome Raindropsoup. I swear, I learn something new from this woman every day.**

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>They Know<strong>

Dr. Cullen turns off the 101 and onto a gravel drive. Trees hang over the narrow road, their leaves blocking out of the light of the moon.

Maybe I should call someone, let them know where I am? _That way they know where to look for my body tomorrow._ I grab my cell phone out of my coat pocket and dial.

"Y-ello." Charlie answers after two rings.

"Hey, Dad.I just wanted to let you know that I'm going down to the reservation for a little while." I make a mental note to go by there in the morning to solidify my alibi.

"Mmkay, Bells. Say hi to Jake for me."

I hang up with Charlie as a large Victorian mansion comes into view, emerging from the darkness. Lights are on throughout the ominous house, and I can't help but be reminded of _The Amityville Horror_.

Dr. Cullen's car disappears into a separate _six_-car garage, giving me time for a quick text.

_I'm at the Cullen's house, _I text Angela after parking the Chevy. Immediately, my phone vibrates with her response.

_Take pictures. _

I smile down at my phone, before sliding it back into my coat pocket. Dr. Cullen is waiting patiently for me to get out of my truck. Well, he'll need patience because it's a multi-step process. I crank the handle to slowly roll down the window. It groans and teeters unevenly as it makes its decent. Once it's down far enough, I stick my arm through the crack and grope around for the handle to let myself out. Now outside, I crank the window back up in a useless attempt to save the interior of my truck from Forks near-constant rain.

Dr. Cullen smiles down at me, leading me into the wolves' den.

I feel my heart pounding in my chest as I walk up to the doorstep. Dr. Cullen opens the front door and stands aside for me to enter. I carefully listen for the click of the door locking behind me, but hear nothing. The sight that greats me is _not_ what I expect. I was expecting torches lining deep grey walls, and coffins littering a granite floor.

Instead, the large living room is crisp and angular. The woods are light pine and the carpet and furnishings are all done in creamy shades. The east wall of the house is composed entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, which are pitch black at this late hour. I can't help but feel like there's someone on the other side, watching.

Emmett Cullen is sitting in the middle of one of the couches, hunched over with his elbows resting in between his knees. He's deeply enthralled in some hack and slash video game that he's playing on the massive flat-panel TV. An unfamiliar woman with caramel-colored hair sits at a large—for lack of a better word—dining table, reading a magazine. She must be Mrs. Cullen.

I remember the Cullen "kids" from high school. I didn't know any of them. I just _knew of_ them. We were in entirely different circles—them, in there's, and everyone else in another.

"We have a guest," Dr. Cullen announces. "Please, Bella, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable."

_Like that's possible_.

I sit in the only single chair in the room. Alice and Jasper Cullen bound down the stairs, barely keeping a human pace.

"Hi, Bella." Alice skips up to me, planting a kiss on my cheek. "We're going to be _great_ friends."

I can feel a look of horror spread over my face. _Will someone please get this demented elf away from me? _Alice sits down in the love seat next to me, sliding it over a foot in my direction. I start to feel a sluggishness come over me and find myself relaxing in the chair without realizing it.

"Whaa ta hell is goin' on?" My voice comes out in a slur.

"A little too much, Jasper." Alice whispers. My gaze settles on Jasper, who is staring intently at me.

"Roofis?" I question, but it comes out all wrong.

"Who's Roofis?" Alice asks.

"No, r_oof-fies_." Emmett laughs while still keeping his eyes trained on the TV. "She thinks you drugged her, dude."

The haze slowly lifts. "What the fucking hell was that?"

"Language." Mrs. Cullen tuts from the table.

"Sorry." Jasper smirks and tips an imaginary hat.

Yup, it's just as I thought—_they're crazy_. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can go home—back to my reasonably sane life.

"Where's Peter?"

"He's hunting," answers a vaguely familiar voice.

I look up to find Edward Cullen and struggle to keep my composure at the sight of him. In one glance, I can tell he hangs a little to the left—which is _way_ more information than I _ever_ want to know about Edward Cullen. He saunters down the stairs in his _skinny jeans_ and a skin tight, white low V-neck topped with a black vest. His hair, which was always in need of a comb, is now slicked down over one eye, with a glittery little bobby pin fastening the rest behind his opposite ear.  
>I know the pack always make fun of the way the vampires "sparkle", and looking at Edward, I know why. Edward <em>sparkles<em>—from his silver eye shadow to the pointy tip of his rhinestone-encrusted stiletto heels. He and Alice must have _such fun_ shopping together. They're practically Twinkies, both flat-chested and only a two foot height difference.

Edward stops at the base of the stairs and looks pointedly at me. Hopping out of my seat, I head for the front door.

"Where are you going?"

_Away from this freak show._ "Home."

In a flash Dr. Cullen is at the door, blocking my escape. "I'm sorry, Bella, but we have some questions we need answered before you go."

"Yes. Boxers. And I like my toilet paper to roll from the top, not the bottom. Are we done here?"

"Who told you about us?" There's an edge of menace in the doctor's voice. It takes me back a step. He actually looks … scary.

"The Quileute legends."

"Dude, I don't know if anyone's told you, but you're _white_." Emmett apparently finds the conversation interesting enough to join.

"I may not be a Quileute by blood, but the reservation has been my second home for the last decade."  
>"Have you told anyone?" Jasper asks.<p>

"No, I haven't told anyone. Besides, most of my friends already know."

"_Who_ knows?" Blondie appears at the top of the stairs, a vicious scowl on her perfect face.

"My friends on the reservation. No one else." Blondie still looks like she's trying to set me on fire with her laser-like gaze. Apparently, she's a little touchy about people knowing their little secret. I don't know why, vampirism suits her—a vicious beauty. The wolves wouldn't know whether to rip her to shreds or hump her leg.

"You mean _the wolves_. Your friends are the wolves," Gayboy sneers.

"Yes, _the wolves_." I try my best to mimic Edward, but fall short in the gayness factor. He sighs in exasperation, throws his hip out in a spin, and marches right back up the stairs.

"This means they've broken the treaty. They've told a pale face." Jasper states.

_A pale face? _"Wait a minute. The treaty wasn't broken. I pretty much figured it out on my own. When I was told the 'Legends,' they were presented to me as just that—_legends_. I connected the dots myself." _With a little help from Jake._

"I heard that!" Edward shouts from up the stairs. In a heartbeat, he's back down the stairs. I marvel at how his hair hasn't moved a fraction of an inch. I'll have to ask him what hairspray he uses.

"Alterna, it's fabulous. Never a hair out of place."

"What the …" _Great_, he reads minds.

"Edward can read …" Carlisle begins.

"Yeah, I figured that out. Thanks for the warning."

"Jacob Black told her about us. He's the one who broke the treaty," Edward announces smugly.

"It's not how it sounds. I saw Jacob phase. He didn't know I was even there." And boy, was it a sight when he phased back. Let's just say that _sight_ is what caused me to lose my W-card. _Yummy_.

"She's telling the truth." Gayboy licks his lips with a far-away gaze.

"So, what? You're a lie detector too? What other super powers do you have?" I turn to Jasper.

"YOU! The roofies thing. That was _you_! " _I'm so outta here_. I make a run for the door again, but now it's Jasper's turn to stand in the way.

"What the _fuck_?" I throw my hands up in exasperation. This hostage situation is really starting to get on my nerves.

"Language," Mrs. Cullen chides again, not even looking up from her magazine.

"Well, tell your _children_ to back off." She finally looks up from her magazine, affixing her golden gaze on me. _Oh shit, I angered Momma Bear._ She looks at each one of the Cullens as she stands up from her chair.

"Is this any way to treat a guest? I am appalled by your behavior." Her children hang their heads. A creepy smile plays across Mother Cullen's face. "Thank you for answering our questions, Bella. Jasper, let her go." Her voice rings of finality. There is no questioning this woman.

Mouthing a silent 'thank you' and snapping a picture with my phone, I leave the vampire's lair to return back to humanity.

Once in the safety of my truck, I look at the picture I captured_. Damn, they _do_ show up_. I have to admit that I'm a little disappointed. Even more disappointing is that Edward is completely out of frame. Ang isn't going to believe me without photographic evidence. She had a thing for Edward all throughout high school. I would've really liked rubbing Gayward in her face.

I'm halfway home when I feel my pocket start to vibrate.

"Ang, I'm in the truck. Can't hear a thing. I'll call you back when I get home." I can't hear shit when I'm in the heap o' rust. I throw the antique in park and take the keys out of the ignition. Letting myself out of the truck, I wipe the red rust flakes on my coat before climbing the front steps and unlocking my front door. It's only 10:00, so Charlie's still awake.

"There's pizza in the fridge if you're hungry. I know how scarce food is with the boys on the Res."

"No thanks, Dad. I'm just going to get to bed."

"All right. G'Night Bells."

"Night."

I climb the stairs and open the door to my room as I dial Angela's number.

"So, how did you get into the Cullen's house? It's like the Fortress of Solitude. No one knows where it is, let alone what it looks like."

"Dr. Cullen needed to talk to me. He ... uh, wants me to intern at the hospital after my community service is up." It's the only lie I can come up with on the spot.

"Seriously, with your astounding people skills? Right. So, really. Why were you invited to the Cullens? You can't lie worth shit, Bella."

"Okay, you want the truth. Well, the truth is, I screwed a guy in the utility closet tonight. As it turns out, the guy's staying with the Cullens. I know how to pick 'em, because apparently, the guy I fucked is going through a 'rough time right now,' and Dr. Cullen wanted to make sure I was informed of his 'issues.'" It even sounds more fucked up when I say it out loud.

"Was he hot?" _Shit,_ she believes me.

"Fuck yeah, he was hot."

"So, what are his issues?"

_How can I lie convincingly?_ "Sex addict." _It_ _could be true, after all._

"Could you _be_ any luckier? When do I get to meet him?"

"I don't know, Ang. I don't even know when I'll be seeing him again."

"Well, does he work at the hospital? Is he a patient?"

"He's the janitor."

"Really."

"Really really. Hey listen, Ang, can we hash and rehash this tomorrow? I'm really tired, and I have to get to the res tomorrow before Charlie does."

"I'll hold you to it."

"I expect nothing less from you." The moment after the line goes dead, I realize I didn't tell her a thing about Gayward. It's probably for the best. I'm sure my description couldn't do him justice. I shake away the thought of Mr. Sparkles. _Time for a quick shower_. Grabbing my most comfortable night attire—my holey Tweety bird t-shirt and cut-off sweats—I head to the bathroom.

It sucks balls having to share the only bathroom in the house with your Dad. I can't tell you how many times I've fallen in the toilet in the middle of the night because he forgets to put the toilet seat down. And don't get me started on the whiskers in the sink. _Yuck_.

A piping hot shower is just what I need to wash away the tension of the day. Granted, there are many things that I _don't_ want to wash away, like the smell of Peter that still lingers on my skin. As if washing away his scent with also take away my memory of him.

I lather up my hair with my favorite strawberry shampoo and inhale deeply. I can still smell him—the scent of leather and cinnamon with a hint of cloves. I imagine it's the way a cowboy would smell. Yes, I can definitely picture him in a cowboy hat—_just_ a cowboy hat.

"_My belle_." My eyes pop open in shock. Peter is in my bathroom, in _my_ shower—_naked_. I throw my arms around his neck and nuzzle into his broad chest in time to hear a throaty chuckle resonate.

"You came."

"I told ya I would." He gently strokes my hair.

"But how did you know where I live? Wait, how did you get in?" I pull away to peer up at him.

"Yer window was unlocked, and as for how I found your home, I followed your scent."

"My _scent_?"

"Yes, and now I know where it comes from." He gestures to the bottle of strawberry shampoo.

"I didn't know if I would ever see you again. I thought that Dr. Cullen sent you away."

"He did send me away. It seems he doesn't want me around you." He runs his strong hands up and down my sides. In the heat of the water, his skin feels almost the same temperature as mine. "I can't say that I blame him. I hurt you Bella." There's guilt in his voice and written plainly on his face. I feel his fingers trace lightly over the purple marks on my upper arm. I look down to find that there's more bruises now. My hip bones each have a purple arch, and my ribs on my right side feel a little sore.

"It's nothing, Peter. I'm fine. I'm here." I reach up to kiss his lips, but he pulls away slightly. I frown, tasting the rejection.

"I can't hurt you, my belle." His voice is barely more than a whisper.

"You won't. We just need practice."

The corners of his mouth twitch. "Practice," he repeats.

"Yeah, practice. Like they say, practice makes perfect." I kiss him again, and this time he doesn't pull away. Still, I can feel the tension behind his lips. He's entirely in control, and I don't like it. I pull away, locking my eyes with his.

"I'll tell you if you're hurting me." Holding his glorious face between my hands, I take a moment to remember every detail of his face. His wide eyes, lined with long eyelashes that would make any woman jealous. His pointed nose and strong jaw line. The slight clef of his chin and his pouty lips. He is perfection.

"Promise?"

"Promise." As soon as the word leaves my lips, I'm airborne. My body instinctively wraps around his as he places cool but guarded kisses along my neck and collar bones. A shiver rocks my body with the contact, causing goose bumps.

"Yer cold." He pulls away.

"No, I'm fine. More than fine." Kissing him again, I'm able to coax his tongue out of his mouth. His cool breath melts me to the core. I can't help the moan that escapes my lips.

"Sshhh," Peter warns. Just then there's a knock on the door. _Shit_. I freeze.

"You okay in there?"

"Um, yeah, Dad." I try to keep my voice composed.

"Don't use up all the hot water," Charlie grumbles, before I hear his footsteps continue down the stairs.

"Change of venue?" I offer.

"What did ya have in mind?" I shut off the water and suddenly a towel wraps around me. Delicately, Peter dries my hair and begins working his way meticulously down my body. His fingers graze my nipples, his hand cups my ass, and it seems that the act of drying me off has only made me wetter.

He kneels before me, drying my legs off, running his hands up the inside of my thighs and across my belly. Waiting to catch my eyes, he slips one finger inside of me. My head falls back as my body arches to meet him.

"Mmmhmmm." I hum in pleasure. I look down at him, marveling in the way each muscle in his arm ripples under his pale skin as his finger slides in and out of me. My eyes devour his perfect form before locking onto his manhood. "I'm hungry, Peter."

"Then we'll have to feed you."

"I think I have something in mind."

He swoops me into his arms.

My surroundings blur and a second later, we're both lying on my twin sized bed—my body strewn across his. Something hard is poking me in the belly. I scoot down his body, straddling his legs as I run my hands down the smooth planes of his chest to the V that leads to my prize.

I can barely get my hands around the base of his cock. I have to squeeze to do so earning a small grunt of approval. I run my hand up and down the length of him, loving the feeling of power it gives me. Each stroke and his hips rise to meet me. Each flick of my tongue on his sensitive tip earns me a groan.

Locking my eyes with his, I take him into my mouth. He looks at me with reverence in his eyes, like I'm a goddess. I slowly work my hand in time with my mouth. Each thrust increases in tempo, causing his hips to buck in time.

"I can't describe how wonderful that feels, the _warmth_. It's almost as good as …" He's suddenly sitting upright, pulling me away from my Peter-pop—_I was enjoying that—_to bury his cock inside of me to the hilt. "… _This_."

I have to bite down on my lip to stop from screaming. It a tantalizing mixture of pain and pleasure. He fills me so completely—it's exquisite. We're made to fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle.

I taste blood in my mouth. My eyes widen in panic the same time Peter's eyes turn as black as night. In the next moment, he's gone. My window slams shut behind him. _Shit! __I have to go and ruin a perfect moment by bleeding all over the place. _

"Bella!" I hear Charlie's footsteps hurriedly climbing the steps. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, Dad. Uh … my window just got stuck." I scramble under my covers, pulling them up to my chin just as Charlie opens the door.

"It's shut now," I squeak, peering over my blanket. He eyes me warily, closes my door, and goes back down the stairs. A minute later I hear the front door open and then slam shut. Taking my blanket with me, I pad my bare feet across the hard wood floor to the window. Sure enough, Charlie's out there, flashlight in hand, searching the woods outside our house.

I put on some clothes and return to bed, pulling the covers over my head to sulk for the rest of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, it was about time we got some insight to who Peter is. I struggled with this chapter—I'm not accostumed to writing in a male's perspective—but once I found my grove, Peter came right though.**

**Beta'd by the illustrious Raindropsoup.**

* * *

><p>… <strong>Screwed it all up …<strong>

**Peter's point of view**

Jasper's the only family I have left in this world, but being in his company comes with a price—quite a hefty one.

Let me tell you that no one—and I _do_ mean _no one_—should have to deal with Sparkle boy rubbing up on you every chance he gets. It makes it really difficult to be polite to your hosts when their prodigal son is humping your leg. And no cussing? For fuck's sake, I'm a grown man! There must be something in that animal blood the Cullens drink that turns their brains to batshit.

Jasper's joined the _Save-the-Humans-Eat-a-Furry_ Cause, too. His pint-sized elf must keep his balls in a little jar for safekeeping. You no longer qualify as a man when your blue jeans are held together with sparkly diamond studs.

What's happened to the ruthless Major with an army of newborns at his command? What's happened to the Jasper who killed without question and never second-guessed himself? That's the Jasper I had needed when I came looking for him two weeks ago .

Twenty-two years of pain and loneliness had been enough. I had finally realized I couldn't come out of this pitiful wallowing on my own, as much as it wounded my pride to admit it.

Charlotte left a few days before our anniversary the summer of 1988. Our anniversary marked the day that we were freed from Maria's clutches. It also signified the start of our life together. This year was different. It was special—our 100th anniversary. I was busy for weeks making my own preparations for the day. As it turned out, so was Charlotte.

In all of our years together, we had never married. Char would joke about it constantly, claiming I must have had a fear of commitment for refusing to marry her. I suspected that deep down inside, it must have really bothered her. Personally, I didn't see the point in it. Marriage was a human gesture, and nothing more. Our love ran deeper than that—deeper than lust and blood, or bone and sinew. Our love was _eternal_. At least, it was supposed to be.

She vanished a few days before our anniversary, leaving me with only a note.

_'Tying up a loose end so we can get back to our forever_.'

Of course, this was Charlotte we were talking about. She didn't just leave the note lying around somewhere to be easily found. No. She hid it, knowing I wouldn't find it until the day before our anniversary.

For our "big day, I had busied myself with getting our driver's licenses, social security cards, and medical records in place . We were heading south through Las Vegas the next day, before our final stop in Arizona.

I still wondered if I would've figured it out sooner had I not been so preoccupied.  
>I should have known when she rerouted our path through Mexico. She had insisted on hunting alone— something she only did when she was up to no good. By the time I did find her note, she was long gone. Her scent had all but disappeared in the arid south Texas heat.<br>She found Maria, and she was determined to end her.

When a vampire loses their mate … well, it was something you never recover from. I found it strange that I would grieve for her loss much the way humans did. I even picked up some self-help books to see if they would help. They didn't.

For years, I searched in vain. I knew the moment she was gone. The air changed. It became thicker. The sky darkened. But still, I searched for her, perpetuating that glimmer of hope I held onto so tightly. _Denial_.

I unleashed the pain of my loss, leaving a path of destruction in my wake. I ripped humans limb from limb, spilling their blood on the ground—all because I _could_. I became a monster, preying on the innocent and becoming everything I swore I would never become. Humans weren't the only target of my rage. I searched for _her_, Maria. But just as every sign of Charlotte had faded from this world, so had Maria's. She was gone, leaving me with a taste for vengeance and no place to channel it. _Anger_.

I _wanted_ to be seen. I _wanted_ to be noticed. I prayed that the Volturi would come to end me, but they turned a blind eye to my pain. The bastards saw fit to let me suffer for eternity. Even begging didn't sway them. _Bargaining._

For years I didn't speak. I sought out barren lands, devoid of all life. Feeding once every few months, I did only what was necessary for me to survive. _Depression._

I finally came to realize that no amount of Hell that I put myself through would bring Charlotte back to me, and that if I didn't do something to pull my ass out of my own wallowing, I'd spend the rest of eternity in agony. The solitude of a nomad's life had lost its appeal. It had been time for a change, and this was where Jasper came in. I headed toward the only thing left that was familiar to me—my brother. If there was someone who could help get me over my pity-party-of-one, it was Jasper. I knew he'd beat it out of me if he had to, and he'd enjoy himself in the process. _Acceptance._

Jasper proved easy to find. He was in the fucking phone book for Christ's sakes.  
>I thought perhaps the old Jasper was back in action when I walked into that utility closet at work to find the truly scrumptious Bella, practically served on a platter. All she needed was a little sprig of parsley wedged between her lips and it was <em>bon appetit<em>. She was my little present to do with as I chose—fuck, or drain, or both.

I'd sniffed the air to see if I could detect any sign of Jasper, but there was none—_the sneaky bastard_. What I did catch was a much more delectable aroma. The scent of vine-ripened strawberries, mixed with freesia, and coupled with another scent I couldn't quite put my finger on. The mixture was both sweet and delicate, with an indiscernible edge to it. Needless to say, she was not the crack-whore meal I was expecting from Jasper.

When it was just the three of us—Char, Jasper and I—we had made a pact to only drink from the low-lives: the drug pushers and users, the rapists and murderers, or the occasional strippers and prostitutes. Bella was clearly none of these. Her blood was pure and sweet, nearly intoxicating. Jasper had no part in this. No, this was just a girl with the worst luck ever—naked in a closet, with a vampire blocking her only exit. As soon as her big brown eyes had locked with mine, I smelt her fear. If only humans knew how their fear enhanced their scent, making it even harder to resist. Of course, then the food spoke. And I'd be damned, she actually knew what I was.

It was her courage in the face of near-certain death that struck a chord deep within me. Something dormant stirred. I guess I should clarify—two dormant things stirred: one from deep within my chest, and the other from my pants. _Impossible._

Impatient little thing that she was, she had asked me to get it over with. I had _other_ plans.  
>I should have known that Carlisle would pick up her scent on me and go snooping. The nosey fucker. He just couldn't <em>help<em>but know everyone's business. I assumed that was where Sparkle boy got it from—it was in his bloodline.

Carlisle had crossed the line when he confronted Bella. I was _livid_. He could play Daddy to Jasper, but I answered to no one. Something changed in me when he told me about the bruises he had found, that I had _hurt_ her. My anger turned inward. Carlisle asked me to leave, but I had already made up my mind before he spoke the words.

Screw the cold blood bags from the hospital, I needed my blood from the source—no tofu or cocktail substitutes. I needed to _hunt, _to stalk my prey and drain them dry. I needed the _rush_, the _thrill_, and the _exhilaration_of it. I needed a distraction. Knowing it would be easy to find a low-life or two, I had headed to Seattle.

What I didn't expect was an unfamiliar nagging in my chest that only grew the further I got from Forks. Thinking it was probably some witchy spell my brother's mate concocted to keep tabs on me, I had ignored it. She and I would have it out when I returned. That shit didn't fly with me.

One drunken vagrant and a heroin addict later, I found myself heading back to Forks. Sure enough, the nagging subsided when I entered the small town's city limits. That demented fairy was going to get a piece of my mind. I'd take the pole shoved up Blondie's ass and beat her with it.

I pumped myself up with loads of witty comebacks as I approached the Cullen's house, ready for some word slinging, or fist slinging if it came to it. I had let the rage build inside me, ready to unleash it on Jasper's little witch, when something occurred to me.

The nagging was still there, pulling me in another direction, _away_ from the Cullens. I remembered thinking, _'what the fuck,'_ until I had picked up a scent. The pieces began to fall together, even though they still made little sense to me.

I found myself staring up at the window to Bella's room. She was so different from Charlotte. The biggest difference, of course, was that she was _human_. My head still couldn't wrap itself around that one. I fancied myself a fan of buxom blondes. After all, Char had honey-colored hair that fell in ringlets down her shoulders and curves you could get lost on. So why was I drawn to this delicate little brunette with her doe-like brown eyes—so frail with such a fire lying beneath the surface? She reminded me of a Southern Belle. A beauty with a bite. That was my Bella—_my Belle_.  
>I had heard her start the shower and realized my timing couldn't have been better. There was still the small issue of her father downstairs. But I had told her I would join her for a shower, and I was a man of my word, if nothing else.<p>

To my enormous luck, her window was unlocked, and I silently let myself in. I'd heard that you could tell a lot about a person by seeing how they lived, and judging from the clusterfuck that was her room, she must be as scatter-brained as they came. And how a human ended up with vampire-hearing, I'd never know, but Bella's dad sure knew how to ruin a moment. I couldn't blame him entirely. Somehow, my self-control went out the window around Bella. A tiny drop of blood, and I turned tail and ran, leaving her mid-coitus.

In my many years upon this Earth, I had _never_left a woman unsatisfied. Bella deserves better than that. Hell, she deserves better than me—a man who still carried so much pain. I had baggage, a hundred-plus years of it.

I'm torn. Go back for an explanation? Or give myself time to cool down? Maybe, I'll leave her a note. Humans need sleep, so I shouldn't disturb her.  
><em>Yeah, a note. <em>  
><em>'Sorry I bailed on you in the middle of sex, but the smell of your blood made me want to eat you.' <em>

It's the only thing that comes to mind. Well, I'm not the most well-spoken when it comes to apologies. In fact, apologizing's something I just don't do. I try to make a habit of not screwing up in the first place, but somehow, I seem to screw everything up when it comes to Bella.

As I run, I realize I'm making my way back to the Cullen's house. The problem is, I'm not sure if I'm still welcome there. Well, I'll at least need to get my shit and tell Jasper goodbye.  
>A few hundred yards away from the house, I pick up Bella's scent, almost completely drowned out by gas fumes and a hint of motor oil. I fly through the front door, taking it right off its hinges. How dare Carlisle go behind my back, <em>again, <em>to speak with her.

All I see is red. Canvasing the room, I find five very stunned vampires. Jasper is the first to find his voice. He stands, holding his hands up, palms outward, knowing better than to make any fast movements.

"Carlisle just wanted to know how she knew we were vampires, that's all."  
>"Tell me everythin', and I <em>do<em> mean _everythin'_. If I find out you've left out so much as one detail, there'll be hell to pay." My chest heaves with unnecessary breath.

Alice speaks up, as if she's having a casual conversation, not even bothering to look me in the eyes.  
>"Bella came in, and Jasper and I came into the living room. Esme, Emmett, and Carlisle were already here. Edward and Rosalie were told to stay upstairs." Alice pauses to stare pointedly at them. "I told Bella hello, and that we were going to be friends. She got so excited that she nearly hyperventilated, so Jasper hit her with a wave of calm, but it came on a little too strong. She's a lot tinier than she looks, so the weight ratio wasn't right. Anyway, she accused us of drugging her. She's got a mouth on her. Esme reprimanded her for her language, and then she got up to leave. Carlisle politely reminded her that we still hadn't had our discussion, so she sat back down. She told us that the Quileutes told her we were vampires. Jasper accused them of breaking the treaty—which I agree. They totally did, honey." Alice looks affectionately at Jasper, and I feel venom rise in my throat. "Oh, and Edward came down, read Bella's mind, and called her on a lie. She didn't want to tell us about the wolves. She tried to run for the door again, and Mom let her go that time. Oh, and she took a picture on her way out the door. Weird. Well, that was pretty much everything, right?" It takes exactly twenty-nine seconds for Alice to recount the whole encounter. I get the feeling that she's glossing over a few things.<p>

My eyes narrow on her as she goes back to painting her fingernails, while Jasper holds her bottle of blood-red nail polish like a little bitch.

"Anything else?" I ask between gritted teeth.

"Oh, yeah. She asked about you. Carlisle told her you were hunting, which you were. I smell the human blood all over you." She lifts her head up for a moment to glare at me.

"Don't ever talk to 'er again." My voice is as cold as steel.

"She's my friend, I'll talk to her if I want to." The demonic pixie replies, her spiked hair twitching with the slightest movement.

"She's my _mate_, and you'll do as I _say_!" The shock on her face is priceless. "I guess ya didn't see that one comin', did ya?"


	5. Chapter 5

**We're back to Bella is this chapter, but don't worry. If you're still confused as to Peter's past, more will be explained in the next chapter.**

**Beta'd by Raindropsoup, editing goddess.**

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><p><strong>He's Dangerous<strong>

**-Bella's point of view**

My first conscious thought is muffled and shrouded in darkness. _Hey, that was kind of poetic_. Sadly, it just means that I've made a bird's nest in my bed and have buried myself in the middle of it at some point during the night. Clawing my way to the surface, I slowly emerge from the pile of covers, in a scene that is probably close to that freaky one from _The Ring_.

My life feels like a horror flick right about now. Apparently, I'm terrifying enough to scare away vampires. Yes, that _did_ happen, I realize as my mind replays the events of last night.

Coming back to reality, I hear Charlie's booted-feet shuffling around downstairs. The smell of apple cinnamon oatmeal wafts up to my room. _Great, he's made breakfast_. That can only mean one thing—ambush interrogation, Charlie style.

_I might as well get this over with._ After a quick trip to the bathroom, I trod down the stairs. The groan of a chair sounds from below, and I know Charlie's preparing his opening statements.

"Bella, I need to talk to you." His voice is full of anxiety. This is not a subject matter he's comfortable with, and frankly, neither am I.

"I know, Dad." I sigh, hoping that what's to come will be as painless as possible.

"Look, Bells, I know you're nearly twenty years old, but you still live under my roof …" he begins his tirade before my foot even touches the kitchen floor. I settle into the kitchen chair, staring into my bowl of steaming goop as he continues. "I just want to make sure you're being careful."

"Are we having the 'use protection' conversation because I've got that covered. I take my looser pill every day." He stares at me blankly, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Anything else, Dad?" This must be my week for awkward conversations. Let's just see how many more we can get in. Maybe I'll tell him about the vampire I'm screwing and see how that goes.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew Jake is always allowed over here. There's no need to sneak around on my account." _Of course_ he thinks it was Jake. Great, he and Billy have probably been on the phone all morning gossiping about it—planning the wedding announcements and talking about grand kids. Charlie has always loved Jake. After all, Jake is his best friend's only son, and any excuse to spend more time with Billy was a good excuse in Dad's book. Those two have some weird bromance thing going on.

"Dad, Jake and I … it's not like that. We're friends. That's it."

"Alright, Bella, whatever you say." Is that a hint of a smile? What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?

"Dad, Jake and I are _not _sneaking around," I say more forcefully this time.

"Okay, okay." He backs away from the table with his hands held up in surrender. I take that as my sign that the conversation is over, and I get up to wash my oatmeal down the drain.  
>Awkward silence fills the room, until Charlie breaks the ice. "Well, I'm heading into the station for a bit."<p>

"It's your day off, Dad. Why are you going in?"

"Oh, there's just a situation going on the next county over. A few disappearances." My blood runs cold.

"How many?"

"Two young women and a man went missing in the woods. They never came back from their camping trip. They're organizing a search party, and I thought I'd lend a hand."

Could Peter be responsible for this? "Please, be careful, Dad." There's an uneasiness in my voice.

"I always am, Bells. Are you staying in today?"

"No, I'm going down to First Beach."

"Well, just be careful out there. And don't go into the woods."

"I won't."

He nods his head and shrugs on his jacket before heading out the door.

Our conversation serves to reinforce the plans I already made. I run upstairs to finish getting dressed. I need to talk to Jake. First off, I need to find out if he blew my cover for my trip to the Cullens' last night. Secondly, to see if the pack has caught the scent of a new vampire in the area.

_Maybe it's a good thing I scared Peter off_, I think, a chill running up my spine as I hop into my truck. Of course, I know he drinks from humans. His eye color reveals that, but the disappearances put things in a new perspective. How can I allow myself to be alone with someone so dangerous? I shake away the thought, trying to focus on the road in front of me. Rain is coming down in sheets, and my windshield wipers aren't doing much to help my visibility.

Leaning far over the steering wheel, I strain my eyes to see through the rain. I can barely make out the lines on the road. Soon, the reservation comes into view as the rain lets up slightly. I pull up in front of Jake's tiny house. The porch light is on, so I know somebody is home.

Pulling my jacket over my head, I run through the rain, trying my best not to slip on the mud. I make it to the screen door and ball my hand into a fist, preparing to knock, when the door flies open and I'm suddenly airborne.

Jake holds me in a tight hug, nuzzling his face into my shoulder. The skin of his bare chest is blazing hot, warming me instantly even through my wet raincoat. Jake's tight embrace reminds me of someone else, only because of the stark difference between the two.  
>Abruptly, Jake puts me back down.<p>

"Bella, you smell horrible. Where have you been?" He stands back to regard me.

"Thanks for the warm welcome, Jake."

"I'm sorry, Bells, but you reek. It must be that bloodsucker of a doctor you work with." I glare at him while I take off my rain jacket.

"You didn't." Jake's voice drops an octave.

"Do what?" He begins circling around me while sniffing my clothes, much how dogs do when first meeting each other. "You gonna sniff my crotch to say hello?" I chuckle.

He growls at my comment. "Which one?"

"Which one, what? Seriously, why can't you fin—"

"Which Cullen did you sleep with?" _Shit_, he can smell that? I let out a nervous laugh.

"Was it the doctor? What, do you have a thing for older men now?"

"No, Jake. Just take it—"

"The big one?"

"NO! Would you let me—"

"The ginger one? I thought he was gay."

"Oh, he is. Very gay. And thank you for finally letting me finish a sentence."

"You still haven't answered my question, Bella. Which Cullen did you fuck? Was it a female?" I can tell by the look on his face that he would like to hear that story.

"No." I'm halfway tempted to tell him I screwed Blondie if it'll get him off my ass.

"Then who was it?"

"Peter." _Shit! Why did I tell him that?_

"Oh, peter … Nice one Bella. What's his last name, Cocks?"

My lips twitch, trying not to smile. I let out a long sigh.  
>"No. Actually, I don't know what his last name is." <em>I know Peter said Jasper was his brother, but I don't get the sense that he considered himself a Cullen. Wait, didn't Jasper and Rosalie have some weird hyphenated name. What the hell was it? Cullen-Hill? Cullen-Hall?<em>  
>Jake's growl brings me out of my musings. My eyes lock on him to see his body begin to vibrate. <em>Shit<em>.

"Jake, calm down." I begin to back away from him. "There's no reason to get upset."

Abruptly, there's a set of hands around my waist, pulling me back. In an instant, I'm behind Sam. _Cue the gerbil sex memory_.

"Jake, get a hold of yourself. You don't want to hurt anyone." The voice of the Alpha noticeably calms him. Jake's no longer shaking, but his hands repeatedly clench and unclench at his sides.

"Would someone care to explain what's going on here?" Sam asks, looking back and forth between the two of us.

"Ask her. She's the one that screwed a bloodsucker," Jake spits out.

"A Cullen?" Sam quirks an eyebrow and begins sniffing the air around me. _Seriously, him too?_

"No," Jake and I reply simultaneously. Jake's voice is cold and icy, while mine is filled with annoyance. "Someone new in the area," Jake explains to Sam, who nods in return.

"Yes, I haven't smelled the scent before." Sam turns to me. "Tell us everything you know about him." _That Alpha shit doesn't work on me._

"He enjoys long, star-lit walks on beach. His favorite blood type is B positive. Oh, and he loves fucking my brains out."

Jake winces at my words.

"Bella, this is serious. We need all the information we can get," Sam hedges.

"Then you should have said please. You may be able to order Jake around, but not me. So, I screwed a vampire and lived to tell about it. That's one less thing on my bucket list."

"You only use sarcasm when something's bothering you, Bella." Jake glares at me, his eyes nearly brimming with tears. "You forget how well I know you." His face visibly softens. "Please, we're just worried about your safety. I didn't mean to go psycho on you. It ... it just hurts, a little." And that is why you don't screw your best friend, folks. It tends to make things a bit _awkward_ afterward.

"Alright. But you need to promise me you won't start anything with him." I look back and forth between Jake and Sam until they both agree.

"His name _is_ Peter. He works at the hospital as a janitor, and he's staying with the Cullens. That's about all I know."

"Jesus, Bella. You screwed the guy, and that's all you can tell us about him?" I'm pretty sure about anything I say right now will piss him off, but I still don't need his snide remarks.

"Would you like to know how big his penis is, Jake?"

Yup, that _definitely_ pisses him off.  
>The vein in Jacob's forehead begins to bulge as his eyes go wild. He begins to speak, but Sam cuts his words off with a restraining arm across his chest.<p>

"Why is he here? And more importantly, what color are his eyes." Sam keeps his voice low and level, a far cry from Jake's belligerence.

"He's here visiting Jasper Cullen. Dr. Cullen said he's going through a rough time and he needs some support. Peter referred to Jasper as his brother."

"His eyes, Bella. What color are they?" Sam asks again, still keeping his voice controlled.

"They're red." I reply in a small voice. Jake lets out another growl and walks out the door, slamming it in his wake. It causes the whole house to shake. I hear the sound of ripping clothes and flesh, followed by heavy, padded paws beating against the sodden earth.

"Bella, do you realize how dangerous it is to associate with a vampire, especially one that drinks from humans?"

"Yes, Sam. I do." The last thing I want right now is another lecture, though I feel it's an inevitability.

"Jake still cares about you. This is hurting him."

"Don't you think I realize that? I didn't come over here to rub it in his face. I wasn't even going to bring it up. Blame your ... damn wolf senses."

"Still, this is information that we need to know. The Cullens are bound by the treaty to introduce new coven members the moment they enter the area. Cullen or not, we don't honor truces with vampires who drink from humans. We won't stand for the loss of human lives." Even though I'm avoiding eye contact, I can feel Sam's eyes on me. They seem to bore into my skull. They're planning on killing him—killing Peter. The thought creeps into my consciousness, turning my insides into a knotted mess. Panic sets in at the thought of losing him. Just a few minutes ago, I thought how stupid this all is—that there is no way I can continue a quasi-relationship with a vampire.

"Hold up a minute. Just because his eyes are red doesn't mean that he drinks from humans. Okay, it's obvious that he has in the past. But what if he's adhering to the Cullen's diet while he's here? No harm, no foul, right?" _Great, now I'm defending him._

"We still need a proper introduction, so the pack can identify his scent and reinforce boundary lines."

"I might be able to arrange th—"

"No." Sam cuts me off. He may not have any real power over me, but his voice commands attention. "It's too dangerous for you to be alone with him. We'll run shifts along the line, waiting till we spot a Cullen. I wish I had known this earlier. The red-headed male was hugging the line all night."

_Oh, I bet I know what that's about_. I can't help but chuckle under my breath. Sam's head whips toward me and his head tilts to the side like he hears a dog whistle. _Hmmm, I wonder if those things actually work_.

"Why are you laughing?" Sam questions.

"Oh, it's just that I'm pretty sure I know why Edward was hugging the line all night. He was waiting—_hoping_—to get a view of Jake as he phases back to human form." Sam did that same head-cocked thing, his face crumpling in confusion.

"Oh, I thought you would have known this. Edward can read minds, and after reading mine, he knows what Jake looks like in the buff. If I had to guess, I'd say that's why he was out all night while you were running shifts. He was hoping to catch a glimpse at some wolfy-naughty bits." My laugh is cut off by the intense look on Sam's face."What?"

"He can read minds?" Of everything I just said, that's what he focuses on?

"Yes," I drawl.

"We'll have to be more careful with our thoughts."

I roll my eyes. "This is Edward. He probably squeals like a girl every time a bug lands on him. Just don't phase back to human around him, and I think you'll be fine." I clap Sam's shoulder as I turn to leave.

"Where are you going?"

I shrug. "Home, I guess." I don't know where else to go.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Bella. At least not while Charlie's away. I think it's best that you stay here."

"Great, is this some type of hostage situation? Seriously, Sam, I appreciate the concern, but I'm a big girl. I can handle myself. Oh, and if you see Jake, can you tell him that I'm sorry."

Sam sighs, and then a slow smile spreads across his face. "I will."

"I'm going home now, Sam."

"Be careful."

I wave without glancing back, heading out of Jake's small home and back into the pouring rain. As I putt home in my rust-mobile, I'm pretty certain there will be a wolf lurking in the woods outside my house, ruining my chance for hot make-up sex.


	6. Chapter 6

**We're bouncing around a bit here, remember, Bella has to sleep. This is Peter's point of view, picking up after his argument with Alice after the Cullen's scared the shit out of Bella.  
><strong>

**Jasper and Peter are over-due for a heart to heart. I hope the accents aren't too hard to understand. I just see these two falling back into hick-speak when they're alone.  
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**Beta'd by the brilliant Raindropsoup, _makin' stories better, one chapter at a time._  
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><p><strong>Male Bonding<strong>

_Previously in Chapter 4: _

_"Don't ever talk to her again." My voice is as cold as steel._

_"She's my friend, I'll talk to her if I want to." The demonic pixie replies, her spiked hair twitching with the slightest movement._

_"She's my mate, and you'll do as I say." I roar. The shock on her face is priceless. "I guess you didn't see that one coming, did ya?"_

**Peter's Point of View**

I storm out through the door-less entryway and return to the cover of the forest. I need my space right now— time to think.

Realization hit as the words flew from my mouth. I had my suspicions, nagging at my subconscious, waiting for me to acknowledge the fact. Bella _is_ my mate. It seems simple enough, but the thought of it sends my mind reeling. The realization feels as if I'm betraying Charlotte – disgracing her memory and all the years we had together. _How can I have two mates?_ Still, I feel the nagging in the center of my chest, pulling me towards her now—towards _Bella_.

I hear the sound of another vampire approaching, pulling me out of my thoughts. This is not what I need right now.

"Peter?" Jasper's voice is reserved. I'm expecting a tongue lashing for yelling at his precious mate.

"So 'cause I pissed off that 'lil demon you call a mate, now ya grow some balls enough to confront me on it? Now's not the time, Jasper," I warn. "We'll cross blades later. I've got too much on my mind right now."

"What I need to say should've been said a long time ago. It's somethin' ya need to hear." Jasper leans against a tree four feet away from me, his posture seems relaxed, but his eyes are guarded— wary.

"Not now." I repeat, bringing my eyes up to meet his gaze.

"It's 'bout Bella." I feel my eyebrow arch in question. _Asshole_, he's baiting me.

"Let me guess, yer gonna preach some hippy tree-huggin' shit an' tell me I need to leave her be. That I don't have the willpower not to eat 'er because of my … _diet_. I know you struggle sometimes, so don't give me that shit."

"Just shut the fuck up an' let me talk, Pete. I know you're pissed an' all. Hell, I can feel it." I open my mouth to protest. "Shut it," He warns. Now this, _this_ is the Jasper of old. I'll have to piss him off more often.

"It's about Char, Peter. There's no easy way to say this … she was never your mate." His eyes lock on mine, and I can see his body tense in preparation for what's coming. I don't hold back. Every emotion I feel, I share with Jasper. The _pain_. The _betrayal_. The _anger_— I push it towards him.

I watch his face, a mirror to my own, as he shares my anguish. It serves him right.

As a newborn, for months the only thing that drove me was my own bloodlust. There was no other thought or drive— until Charlotte was changed. I was instantly drawn to her. The smell of her blood, still fresh in her veins, drove me crazy. We had seemed drawn to each other like magnets. We fucked, we talked, and we fucked some more. That's pretty much the way our relationship worked. A nice balance, if you ask me.

"How? How is this possible? Over a hundred years we spent together. She was my everything, Jasper. How could she have _not_ been my mate?"

"Can't you see why I never told you? You were always so bull-headed, you wouldn't have believed me. You _still_ have trouble believing me."

"Explain." I bite out.

"Just think 'bout it for a second. What was _Maria's_ power?" After all these years, Jasper still struggles with that name, _Maria_.

"She could see relationships." I answer with a shrug, still not seeing his point.

"Yes. Do you honestly think she would allow mated couples in her army? Where do ya think their loyalty would lie in the heat of battle? To Maria, or to their mate? Mated vampires were seen as weak points to her. As soon as she discovered that a vampire had found their mate, they were destroyed. The decision was instant. _No_ _exceptions_. You and Char weren't mated, and she needed you, Pete. You were my best soldier." Jasper smiles for a moment before his face falls. "I remember the day she pulled me aside, demandin' that I end you and Charlotte. You were nearly a year old, and Maria could tell that your loyalty had swayed. Never had I questioned her orders before then, but I fought for you, Pete. I spoke of your loyalty, your prowess, your strength, and your quick reflexes. Nothin' I could do would change her mind." Jasper steps away from the tree, turning his back to me. His voice grows steely.

"The punishment she exacted on me for letting you go was a turning point for me. She refused her bed, refused to let me feed, and humiliated me in front of our whole army. I'd lost credibility in their eyes, renderin' them useless to Maria. How could they let me lead them into battle— me, _Maria's_ _bitch_ _boy_." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "The night before I left, I destroyed every last one of the newborns— decimating her whole army. I'd rather 'em die at my hands, then in battle for a false cause—in service to that _bitch_." Jasper turns to face me again. "Sorry, Pete, I got carried away. The point I was tryin' to make is that I owed you. Had I never left Maria, I would've never found my Alice. I only wanted the same happiness for you and Char. You needed each other. You'd both have been ruined had you not had each other to lean on."

"I don't want the same _happiness_ that you an' that little demon have. If that's what it means to be mated, then I should just drain Bella and get on with my miserable life. Can't you see, Jasper, she's taken yer manhood. Stolen your … your Jasperness. You're her whippin' boy fer Christ's sake."

Jasper has the audacity to laugh. He's oblivious to his own castration. "I don't expect you to understand it, but soon you'll come to. You'll find you'll do anything for Bella, _be_ anything for her. You'll change for her." He smiles. The fucker's lost his shit—gone soft on me.

"Then screw it, I don't want it. I don't want yer version of '_Happily_ _Ever_ _After'_. I'm not changing for no one, least of all, a _human_." Even as I say it, I know I'm lying to myself. I _would_ change for her, I'm pretty sure I already have.

"Well, you do have a point there. I think there's no other choice but to change her. It's too dangerous to leave her human. Especially given your little … _accident_ earlier tonight."

"You know 'bout that? Of course you do. Doesn't that get old, havin' your little mate knowin' the future, and Sparkle boy readin' all yer thoughts?"

"Alice's visions have come in handy more often 'an not. She's stopped me from makin' some really stupid decisions. Edward, well after a while you learn to tune 'em out. I have to say I'm ready for him to find his mate. Know any gay vampires Alice can set him up with?"

"'friad not." I laugh. "Just don't lose yerself for the sake of pleasin' Alice. And as for changin' Bella, well that has to be her decision, not mine. I don't even know what she feels for me. She's probably terrified of me."

"Well, I haven't been around her for long, but she seems to be pretty tough-skinned for a human. After all, she's buddy-buddy with the _weres_ for fuck's sake." Jasper sneers. "There's no denyin' the strength of your emotions for her, but Bella's emotions are more guarded. I can't get a good read on her. Edward had some trouble readin' some of her thoughts too, and Alice's visions go all haywire where she's concerned. There's somethin' strange about yer little human."

Jasper is right, she is mine. _My_ _belle_. My mate.

"How 'bout a hunt, just you'n me?" Jasper asks, a sly smile on his face.

"Only if you agree to my terms." I smile in return, an idea already forming.

"No humans, Pete." Jasper hedges.

"Yer no fun. How's it fun unless they put up a fight, or _somethin'_." The prostitutes usually rub up all over you before they die. It's fun to see the look of confusion on their faces the moment before death—dinner and a show.

"Oh, the prey I was thinkin' of puts up one helluva fight. Mountain lions. It's matin' season an' that means there extra mean. Come on, Pete, jus' you an' me."

It doesn't sound half bad, as long as I don't have to _eat_ them. "You go run along an' get permission from Momma to go on a hunt," I snicker, earning an eye roll from Jasper as he pulls out his cell phone.

"No need fer that when I can just call 'er." He shakes his phone in explanation, flipping it open and pressing a single button. Alice answers and immediately tells him to go ahead and go. Well I guess there _are_ benefits to her mind reading. It takes all the fluff out of conversation. Jasper lowers his voice, shielding the phone with his hand, probably whispering sweet nothings in the witchy bitch's ear before hanging up. Just like I thought— pussy-whipped.

"We all set? Did she give you a curfew?"

"No," He retorts on the defensive. "She just said it's gonna be sunny tomorrow so we should try to be back by sunrise."

"Mmmmhhhhmmm." _That's what I thought_. "Enough talkin', lets hunt. First one to bag five lions wins. The loser has to take Edward to a gay bar in Seattle— wearin' leather ass-less chaps an' all."

"Oh hell no!" Jasper shakes his head.

"I guess ya better win then." I jet off toward Mount Rainier, knowing I'll need the head start. Jasper knows this area better than I do. He also knows the prey better too. I wasn't keen on the subtle differences between mountain lion and elk; it all smells disgusting to me.

Surprisingly, I maintain my wide gap between Jasper. _He's gotten slow in his old age_, I muse. I make it to the clearing of the valley bed that lies at the foot of the large mountain when I hear Jasper's foot falls stop abruptly. What the hell? I stop and turn back to see he's already bagged his first kill, sucking long drags from the writhing beast's neck. I dry heave at the image in front of me. Yes, even vampires can vomit. It's what happens when we eat something other than our natural diet. And the creature that Jasper's draining is definitely _not_ part of a vampire's normal diet.

I approach him cautiously. We get really territorial when we feed. Trust me, I really didn't _want_ to get to close to his catch—the smell is revolting. Unfortunately, it's the smell I need to get a whiff of. I completely flew by the mountain lion, oblivious. That can't happen again. I'm not about to lose this bet.

The tangy earthy smell assaults me. At least it's not as bad as Bambi smells. I test the air, searching for the stench among the natural flora and fauna of the valley. My nose leads me to the dense tree-line that hugs the base of the towering outcrop of rock. Jasper's still preoccupied, sipping on his kitty, as I begin to stalk toward my first kill.

Now, that's one thing that I have to admit. It_ is_ more fun hunting animals than humans. Human's are typically stupid. They seek out their own demise. Animals flee from us, parting like the red sea as we make our way through their habitat. This just means we have to be quicker and move with stealth. Good thing I happen to be trained by the best—the Major himself.

My pussy cat is lying lazily under a tree. It seems I've found her while she's napping—_perfect_. I stalk up to her silently until I'm straddling her form with an arm hovering over each side of her massive head. Movement to my right captures my attention. I turn to see Jasper, a wide smile stretched across his face, with a large fallen tree in his arms. _Shit_.

Too late, he breaks the brittle tree trunk in half, instantly drawing the attention of the formerly-sleeping lion between my legs. The great cat's head whips around causing her body to barrel roll underneath me. All I feel are claws shredding my pants and sharp teeth clamping down on my balls.

"FUCK!" I exclaim, kicking and punching wildly at the beast, hearing the booming laughs of Jasper in the background.

"Couldn't have yer first lion be an easy kill." He barely manages to speak between guffaws.

I'm finally able to get my hands back around the lion's neck and with a flick of the wrist, she falls limp at my feet. I look up to see Jasper staring at the carcass, realizing this could be the distraction I need. Reaching down to the cat's large neck, I slice through the skin and muscle to knick the jugular vein. As a result a fountain of red to spills on the ground. Jasper's eyes dilate. He's having trouble resisting the blood. I slowly back away, allowing him access to the carcass. He takes the bait.

I bag my next lion as Jasper finishes his just-desserts. I make a royal mess with kitty number two, hoping the blood-shed will be enough of a distraction to make him pause. But it seems he's caught onto my game. Soon we're tied again.

We take off in opposite directions, both in search for our number three. As I'm still stalking my number three—a scrawny little male who's faster than fuck – I hear Jasper call out.

"Four." He announces. I don't see a driving range nearby, so I'm assuming he's taken the lead. _Fuck_. Now my ass looks good in chaps, and that's the problem. I don't want to have to explain to the good doctor why Edward's coming home without both his arms.

Finally, I get my wiry male, who leads me straight to his den. I hear the hammering of a single heart beat inside, along with the same foul odor that tells me I've found my number four. The female's in heat and she's not going down without a fight. What's left of my clothes becomes something resembling string cheese. Four down, one to go. I haven't heard Jasper's victory shouts, so I know I still have a chance. That thought pushes me forward, and soon I pick up the trail of number five.

As I approach the beast, he lazily raises his head to regard me and then gently lowers it back to the ground. No fight left in this one. But I know better than to let down my guard. I move toward him from his hind flank, not wanting to be anywhere near his head should he chose to attack. I swear I can still feel the teeth marks on my balls from number one.

I draw a step closer, and the beast stirs again, stretching his front legs and arching his back in a long lazy stretch. Then, leaving his ass end up, he lays his large head down on his front paws. What the fuck's wrong with this cat? I cock my head to the side to regard him and I swear he shakes his ass at me, his balls swaying to and fro. I realize with disgust that it's an invitation. _Fucking_ _gay_-_ass_ _lion_. In a blinding fast move, I break its neck in a roar of victory only a moment before Jasper claims his last kill.

When we finally meet up, he claims he's the winner, stating that the echo from the mountain is the only reason that I didn't hear his call before mine. I call bullshit, and he finally concedes.

We're in for a Kodak moment at the Cullen's house. There's no way I'm letting him live this shit down. I practically skip back to the house to tell Edward the exciting news.


	7. Chapter 7

******Beta'd by Raindropsoup and re-loaded for your reading enjoyment.**

* * *

><p><strong>It's Fabulous!<strong>

_Previously: We're in for a Kodak moment at the Cullen's house. There's no way I'm letting him live this shit down. I practically skip back to the house to tell Edward the exciting news._

**Jasper's Point of View**

Well, horseshit! There's no way I'm getting out of this. I watch Peter's retreating form, practically skipping back to the house. _Giddy little fucker_. I'm sure Alice already has my assless chaps ordered—overnight shipping. I hang my head and kick a rock a few hundred yards.

"I've gotta get this over with at some point. Might as well be now." I resign, making the trip back to our home. I arrive to find Emmett, doubled over in laughter, waiting outside for me.

"Oh man … fuck … ass. You are so screwed." He manages between his guffaws.

"Emmett!" Esme scolds.

"Sorry, Mom." He lowers his voice and ducks down to get level with my ear. "But seriously, you should have seen it. Of course, Alice knew before anyone else. She was at the computer, all giggly and maniacal and shit. But the funny thing was when Peter busted through the door, calling for Eddie Boy. I mean, we all know he hates Edward, but he practically prances up to his room. Edward reads his thoughts and squeals like a school girl, jumping up a down. Edward and Alice have been picking out Eddie's outfit for hours. You're in for a night of fun." He wags his eyebrows suggestively at the last sentence. "Oh, and thanks to all of this, I know have a pair of assless chaps of my own that should be arriving with your order today. Alice spilled to Rose, and she thought it would be fun if …"

"Just stop right there. I get the idea." I push past him, taking a deep breath before I walk through the door. Peter's leaning up against the staircase, a shit-eating grin stretched across his face. I want to wipe it off his face with my fist. A moment later, my mate skyrockets down the staircase and drags me back to our bedroom. I can feel her elation and think I might be able to twist this to my benefit.

As soon as our bedroom door shuts behind us, she's stripping me of my clothes.

"Well, slow down, honey. We've got time." I smile down at her, but her eyes are glazed over. I know this look all too well—it's the look she gets when she's on a clothing high. It's like cocaine for her. Nothing can deter her from the jittery, fidgety mess she becomes until her work is done.

Obediently, I spread my legs a shoulder-width apart and stretch my arms out parallel with the ground. I don't know why she insists on measuring me every time. It's not like my measurements change, and she has an impeccable memory. But I don't complain. She can measure my inseam as often as she wants. She unrolls her yellow tape measure in a swift whip-like move—like a mistress cracking her whip. _Yeah, that's right_.

Placing the tape at odd angles along my body, she jots down random numbers and replaces the pencil behind her ear. She's so cute when she's all worked up like this. I can't help but place little kisses on her head as she's measuring my arms.

"After I finish your shirt." She giggles.

I smile. _Damn right_. But my face falls when I see the silver glittery fabric she lays out on our bed to cut. I'm going to be lit up like a disco ball—a disco ball with its ass hanging out.

"You _can't_ be serious."

"Oh, it's just for one night, and you should see how excited Edward is. I've never seen him like this." She stops to stare at me meaningfully. I can feel there's something nagging at her. "Can you keep your thoughts to yourself?" she asks, whispering.

"Only if you promise to distract me." I give her a roguish smile and am rewarded with her answering one.

"Just let me finish the shirt first."

"You're doin' that on purpose, you know."

"Of course I do." She smiles wickedly.

"Tease."

"And you love it. Now, shoo. Go play with Peter." She slaps me playfully on the ass as I pull my blue jeans on. _Ah, blue jeans, I'm going to miss you._

Once I enter the hallway, I can feel that Peter's on edge, so I decide to mess with him. After all, I'm going through Hell tonight on his behalf.

I planned to throw the bet from the get-go. I know how much Edward bothered Peter—humping his leg and sticking his ass in Pete's face all the time. As if in Pete's heartbroken state he'll suddenly decide to switch to the peen-team and give up on women. That only happens to lesbians.

Now, it's not that I _want_ to accompany Edward to his little gay bar, but I figure I'll take the bullet for a friend, especially considering the fucked-up shit that I had just told Peter. I know he still grieves over Charlotte and is at a loss over his newfound feelings for his little human.  
>But Pete's a worthy opponent. He had surprised me. Thinking I had the advantage because I knew the prey and the area, I had figured I'd bag all five of my lions before he felled one. But he's a smart little fucker. Trained by the best, I might add.<p>

Instead of going straight down the stairs, I head over to Carlisle's office. I need him to make a little phone call for me.

He obliges, but cautions me to use "tact," before he ultimately decides to come along as my diplomatic liaison should "things go awry."

I feel Edward's curiosity and realize he's gotten wind of my thoughts. He comes bounding around the corner, his hands clasped together, and practically bouncing up and down, begging me to tag along. _All right, but_ _no giggling like a school girl in front of Peter. He'll know something's up_. I project my thoughts to Edward, and he nods in understanding.

I can see Peter sitting on the couch in the living room, staring at the television screen. He's still jumpy, but he's trying his hardest to look relaxed.

"Peter, there's somethin' that we should have done when you arrived. It's time to introduce you to the wolves," I inform him, completely straight-faced.

"Now, what does this entail?" he questions, still on guard. He's right to be cautious.  
>"Well, the wolves have certain <em>procedures<em> they like to run through. It's mainly in order to identify your scent. I don't understand all their … customs, but it's what we have to do in order to maintain the treaty. The wolves will be waiting at the boundary line. I'll explain everything to you along the way."

Once outside, we head toward the treaty line at a leisurely pace. I need time to think—time to make this _good._ The more humiliating, the better.

"So, what should I expect?" Peter asks. Carlisle begins to talk, but I cut him off.  
>"First, as the coven leader, Carlisle will introduce you to the wolf pack—they'll all be in there wolf forms. Then yer expected to slowly approach the treaty line and disrobe." I work hard to control my voice.<p>

"Dis—?" Peter starts, but I ignore his objection.

"After you disrobe, you're expected to spin in a slow circle so they can inspect you. When you hear 'em growl, that's your cue to toss your clothes at the head of the pack leader." Carlisle exhales loudly, but I continue. "He's a large black wolf, who'll most likely be nearest the boundary line. He will take your clothes—your scent—and later pass 'em to the other members of the pack that aren't present. The last thing you do is turn your back toward them as a sign of trust."

I pause for dramatic effect, looking back towards Peter. His eyes are open wide, his face incredulous. I can feel his disbelief. He's still on the fence on whether he believes me or not. I also pick up on Carlisle's disapproval. No doubt he's thinking my little joke will backfire. But we have Edward here. He'll just read the wolves' thoughts and let us know if we need to make a run for it. No harm, no foul. It's not like we're breaking the treaty. We're just having a little fun.

"Now jus' wait a minute. So I'm gonna be buck-ass nekkid, wavin' my ass in their faces? You can't be serious."

"He is. We all had to do it," Edward confirms, nodding furiously. God help him, he somehow manages not to crack under Peter's calculating gaze.

"I bet you enjoyed that—paradin' yerself in front of 'em dogs."

"Watch your voice, Peter. We are nearing the line and they will hear you. Also, what Jasper failed to mention is that you will need to vow not to hunt in the area. They will notice your eye color and instantly be defensive … possibly hostile. Take caution: there will be no second chances, and they will be looking for mistakes." Carlisle nods to Peter, signaling him to continue toward the wolves.

"Edward will be translating their thoughts. Do as he instructs, even if it does go against the … _customs_ that Jasper described."

Peter nods his head as the smell of wet dog permeates the air. I feel my phone vibrate and bring it instantly to my ear. It's Alice, going on about how our future suddenly went blank. This concerns me, but I don't have time to think about it now. The wolves come into view—seven of them. The pack leader, a large black wolf, holds the point position and is flanked by a grey wolf with bristling hackles and a reddish wolf that looks half-crazed.  
>The red wolf lets out a long howl as we step into the clearing. He's seething with rage. I can feel it pouring off of him. <em>This one's going to ruin my fun.<em>

"Oh, he is _not_ happy," Edward comments, with a snap to his wrist and a head roll.

"What's he thinkin'?" I ask, knowing exactly who he's talking about.

"He's thinking how he'd just _love_ to rip Peter limb from limb, piece by piece."

"Why's he so pissed at me? He doesn't even know me?" Peter asks, confused.

"Oh, he doesn't know _you_, but he knows _Bella_. Apparently, he's under the impression that he owns her. He keeps repeating in his head 'she's mine, she's mine'…"

"Enough, Edward," I caution, feeling Peter's rising anger as a growl builds in his chest._ This is definitely not part of the plan._

"Okay, okay. The leader asks why we failed to introduce Peter to the pack when he first arrived, as per the treaty's agreement," Edward sputters.

"My apologies. We were unsure whether Peter would be staying with us or simply passing through," Carlisle responds.

Meanwhile, the russet wolf is pawing angrily at the ground, slowly getting closer and closer to the boundary line. And Peter ... well, Peter's still pretty pissed. Though outwardly he remains completely still, his eyes are trained on the red wolf. I half-expect the wolf to burst into flames under Peter's laser-like gaze.

"Let's get this over with," Peter says in a low voice, removing his shirt in one swift motion as he stalks toward the boundary line.

"Peter. Stop." Thankfully, he keeps his pants on, but now he's directly in front of the red wolf, shifting his weight back and forth. I know this move. Hell, I _taught_ him this stance. He's preparing for an attack.

"Sam's telling him to back off," Edward announces, like we know who "Sam" is. The red wolf bucks wildly, as if he's trying to break free of some restraint. He shakes his massive head back and forth.

"Peter, we don't need to start anything with them. Just let them sniff you and let's go," Edward whines. I have no idea what's going through Peter's head right now, but I have a feeling it's not good.

Peter retrieves his shirt from the ground and turns his back towards the wolves. He takes a step away from them, and then pivots to launch his shirt at the red wolf. It hits the wolf in the face, causing the beast to flinch. But then it reacts, mincing the material into tiny shreds in a second. The wolf lets out a long howl and lunges for Peter. Edward shrieks hysterically almost leaping into Carlisle's arms. I'm not at all concerned. I know how this will play out.

Peter sidesteps the wolf an instant before impact, causing the wolf to ram straight into a large pine tree.

We discover an interesting piece of information we hadn't known about the wolves. Apparently, they return to their human forms when they lose consciousness. Now, we're staring at a naked native. Several branches rain down from the pine tree, all pummeling the unconscious human. I stifle a laugh, but can't help the smile that spreads across my face. It looks like Edward is enjoying the sight, as well.

His enjoyment increases when two more wolves change back to their human form and retrieve their unconscious friend. Sam, which I can now put a face to, apologizes for Jacob's rash behavior. Carlisle, of course, excuses it without a thought, and we all go on our merry little way.  
>I don't get to humiliate Peter according to my plan, but this is possibly equally entertaining.<p>

"So, was seeing 'Tonto' and his buddies' ding-a-lings enough excitement for the day, Edward?" I ask as we make our way back home.

"I know what you're getting at, Jasper. And no, you are _not_ getting out of the bet. The club is featuring Steve the pole-fessional tonight, and I wouldn't miss that for the world. Besides, my outfit is _a-ma-zing_! Speaking of which, your latex ass chaps should be here soon." Edward claps his hands together and squeals with excitement.

"Wait, did you say 'latex'?" I question. Peter chokes back a laugh.

"Mmmhmm, latex. Why are you allergic?" Edward laughs. It's a tittering feminine sound.

"Well, fuck me."

"That's my job, honey." Alice answers. She's standing in the doorway, waving something black and shiny in her hand. "They're here," she adds with a devious smile.

"Oh, Jazzy, try 'em on!" Peter chants in his best Edward impression, clapping his hands together and jumping up and down.

"I _will_ pay you back for this," I promise him.

"Oh, I know ya will. In the meantime, I'm gonna enjoy every minute of it."

A fun-filled hour later, I'm dressed and ready to get this shit over with. I don't know why it never occurred to me that I'd have to wear a thong with this get-up. I had no idea how uncomfortable these things are. It's practically a full time job picking that dental floss out from between my ass cheeks, and my constant pacing the floor isn't helping the situation.

I hear Emmett playing the Xbox downstairs, so I figure I'll play a game or two to get my mind off what's in store for me. I pause halfway down the stairs when I catch a glimpse of Emmett. He's wearing his set of chaps in shiny white latex—_willingly_, I might add.

"I take it Rose likes 'em?" I ask as I take a seat next to Emmett, adjusting my junk in this tight-ass thong. _Why in fuck's sake did she have to sew sequins on the dental floss part?_

"Oh … these?" He gestures to the chaps as if he's forgotten he's wearing them. "I actually think they're comfortable." He shrugs his large shoulders. _That boy has no shame._

And speaking of shame, mine had already been captured and memorialized. I swear Peter took over a hundred fucking pictures of me.

Ten minutes later, Edward and I are on our way to _The Manhole_. Yup, that's right. They named the bar _The Manhole_. Personally, I think the name's genius. It's straight to the point.

I'm driving because Edward's a jittery mess. Plus, he doesn't want to get his body glitter all over the steering wheel. He sits daintily in the passenger seat next to me, babbling away at a mile a minute. All I can think about is the not-so-clear response I got from Alice when I asked her if anyone's going to get grab-happy with my ass.

After spending six minutes trying to explain that Edward is _not_ my partner to the bouncer, we make it inside the bar. It smells like sex and liquor—a strange mixture of cheap perfume, lube, and rum. It's enough to make your stomach turn—even for a vampire.

The place is dimly lit, except for random multi-colored strobe lights that move in time with the techno music. I quickly pick up the pattern of the lights, and I'm able to remain relatively hidden.  
>The place is dripping with lust, pouring off all the sweat-slick bodies of horny males. It's so thick in the air that it's nauseating.<p>

While I'm dry heaving, Edward is like a kid in a candy store. He saunters straight out onto the dance floor like he owns the place. All eyes are on him, and he's loving the attention. I think for the first time in a long while, the attention he's getting is actually positive. And just for a moment—one _very_ _short_ moment—I'm glad I'm here to see him in his element.

I find a dark corner and keep my eye on him. He's currently sandwiched between two fairies, and I want to make sure his lust doesn't turn to bloodlust. Because of Edward's … _demeanor_, people usually keep their distance from him. I'm not sure he can handle all these sweaty boys, rubbing up all over him. _Crap_, _I think a little bit of mountain lion just came back up._

The music slowly fades and the lights go dark, only to have them reappear and focus on a stage with two shiny poles that extending from the floor to the ceiling. An announcer introduces _Steve_ to the stage, a wiry male in silver body glitter and matching silver thong. Three members of the audience actually cream their pants at the sight of him, and the temperature in the room goes up by two whole degrees.

The lust is so thick in the air that it's starting to affect me. If I don't get some air quick, I'm going to be sporting a boner for this fairy boy, too.

I push past the crowd, recoiling from the skin-to-skin contact as I make my way to the bathroom. Big mistake. Two guys are fucking in the only stall, and a plump human is leering at me as he takes a piss. No man should be looking at you like that while he's holding his penis in his hand. He's real lucky I went veg, or else I wouldn't stand for that shit.

At least the lust roiling off these three humans is less than the room-full outside. It gives me a chance to try to clear my head of the fuck-fog—which is pretty hard to do to the sound of ass-slapping butt sex.

I wait till the cheering dies down before heading back out. Edward's right in front of the stage. The only screams I hear are happy ones, so I retreat back to my designated corner. On my way there, I'm well aware that the plump male from the bathroom is following me. _Fucking great._  
>I turn to face him, and he's grinning up at me, batting his fake eyelashes.<p>

"You're not my type," I warn in a deep voice.

"I can be …" he begins, lifting his hand to touch my face. I grab his wrist, gripping it just tight enough so as not to break any bones. His eyes bug out in response and his expression turns from desire to fear.

"Leave." I growl. He nods furiously, and I drop his hand. He runs like a girl, arms and legs flailing wildly, back into the main crowd before he blabs to his friends about how the 'bad cowboy' hurt him. _Good_, I think. _Spread the word if it keeps them off of me._

The minutes tick by as the "pole-fessional" performs his act, and I can't help but admit he's damn good at it. I have to appreciate the strength it requires for a human. I'm sure I'll be hearing about his performance for _many_ months to come—and in great detail. Edward's lapping this shit up.

We're staying till dude finishes his act, and then I'm dragging Edward's ass out of here. The bet didn't have established time requirements, and I feel like I've done more than enough.

Steve finishes his show with several ass-pumping butt grinds against the pole, earning wild screams from the audience. What happens next, I don't see coming.

Steve saunters to the edge of the stage, drops on his knees and pulls Edward up for a kiss. _Now we're really never going to hear the end of this._

Reluctantly, I wade through the sea of humans to collect a dazed Edward. Steve's just autographed Edward's hot pants, and also included what looks to be his phone number. I hope Steve's a Seattle local, so Edward can visit him. _Often_.

I've never driven this fast before, but I feel better and better as the distance between us and _The Manhole_ increases. I only wish there is a way to _un-see_ the things I've seen tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter has been beta'd by Raindropsoup, and re-loaded for your reading enjoyment!**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

><p><strong>It's My ? In A Box<strong>

_This picks up when Bella comes home from her altercation with Jacob and Sam at the reservation. Also a note—Jasper's failed attempt at humiliating Peter in front of the wolves happens like fifteen minutes after Bella leaves. So as you can imagine, Jacob hasn't had any time to cool down by the time the subject of his anger is thrown in his face. Not that I'm defending Jake or anything. =)_

**Bella's Point of View**

As I'm squinting past the rain, looking like an old lady with her nose an inch away from the steering wheel to see out of the front windshield, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I know exactly who it is without looking at it.

Sure enough, my suspicions are confirmed at the stop light four blocks from home.

_I'm sorry_

Oh, he _better_ be sorry. A thought suddenly pops into my head, and I make a detour before heading home. _This should be fun._

I arrive home to find that Charlie's still not there. These "disappearances" he's investigating have me worried. I call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. This isn't an unusual occurrence, but given the circumstances, I can't help but worry.

So I do what I normally do when I'm worried—I clean. I'm just about to crack out my toothbrush and get down to business when my cell phone rings.

"Hello," I answer breathlessly.

"You were supposed to call me back, Bella. Remember, we didn't have a chance to hash and rehash this little thing you've got going on with janitor boy."

"Shit, Ang. I'm sorry. Things have been crazy lately. I went down to the Res and ended up pissing off Jake ."

"Aw, poor little Jakey got his panties in a bunch. I'm sure he deserved it."

In case it isn't obvious, Angela hates Jacob.

"Well, I guess he did."

"So what happened to make you piss him off?"

"He found out about Peter."

"And Peter is the janitor?"

"Yes, I thought I already told you that."

"Nope, but continue. Damn, I wish I could've seen his face when you told him you were seeing someone else. Okay, sorry … continue. Oh no, wait! How did he find out about Peter?"

"Let's just say he tends to stick his nose in my business."

"Well, he's freaking psycho about you. I bet he has a shrine 'de Bella in his room with candles and shit."

"Shut it, Ang. It's not like that."

"He's obsessed with you, Bella. There's no denying it. So of course he's going to be pissed that you're seeing someone else. I just hope he doesn't start shit with Peter."

"I wouldn't doubt if it came to that." I hope it won't, but this is Jacob we're talking about. The whole wolf pack seems like they're on steroids. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Leah starts growing a beard.

"So, tell me more about Peter. I want _every_ detail. I need to live vicariously through your newfound sex life."

"Ang, that's ridiculous. You have Ben."

"Yes, Ben who's decided that it would be _romantic_ if we abstain until our wedding night. I'm going without sex for seven miserable months to make our wedding night _magical_. _Please_, every detail."

"How did you end up with such a nice guy?" It not that Ang isn't a nice girl. In fact, she's deceptively sweet and shy … at first. Once you get to know her better, the filter disappears from her mouth. Having Ang sans-filter makes my life more interesting. I love that bitch.

"'Cause the nice guy can _fuck_. But enough about me. Back to Peter."

Ah, case and point. "What details do you want, Ang?"

"The usual: hair color, eye color, height, penis size, and body build."

"Well, he has short, brown hair. It looks like a military buzz cut."

"Oh! Does he have any dog tags? 'Cause that would be so sexy if he was in the military."

"Um, no. I don't think he was in the military." _Not recently at least_. "Where was I?"

"His eyes."

"Uh, his eyes are … uh ... brown." Let's gloss over that part, shall we? "And he's about six-two, or six-three."

"He's sounding yummier by the minute."

"Trust me, he is." _OMG? Am I gushing like a school girl? What the freak is wrong with me?_

"I might have to take a trip to the hospital to sneak a peek."

"I wouldn't put it past you." I chuckle. "You do realize you can just walk in, right? No stretcher needed."

"Carry on. You haven't gotten to the juiciest of details."

Heat floods my cheeks. "He's a walking anatomy book. I swear you can see every muscle, smooth and lean under his skin. He has broad shoulders that taper down to a lean waist, and there's not a single hair on his chest. He's perfect."

"He must wax."

"Nope."

"Continue. I still haven't heard about south of the border."

"I'm going to have to have a talk with Ben. You're not doing so well on the abstinence wagon."

"No, I'm not, and you're stalling, so _continue_," she adds more forcefully.

"Okay! His dick is huge, ginormous. It's gotta be at least ten inches. I can't even get my hand around it," I blurt before I lose my gumption. I'm so glad I'm alone in my room so no one can see how beet-red my face is. Since when did I become such a freaking prude? _Since you started fucking a walking sex god, that's when._

"Oh, my God! When's your next shift? 'Cause I'm coming to visit!"

"I work tomorrow, but I'm not sure he's going to be there."

"Call him and find out."

"Um ... I don't have his number."

After a moment, I hear Angela clapping on the other end. "So, this really was a no strings attached fucking. Barely a first name and no phone number. I'm proud of you, Bella. It's totally what you need to get yourself out of the rut that is Jacob Black."

"Great, so I've hit some new level of immorality?"

"No, you've started living your life without worrying what poor little Jake will think."

"I don't—"

"—um, yeah, you do."

I hear the front door open downstairs."Hey, I gotta go. Charlie's home."

"See you later."

I bound down the stairs and sigh with relief when I see Charlie hanging up his coat and holster.

"You all right, Bells?"

"Um, yeah, Dad. Any news on the disappearances?"

"No, there's no evidence to track. No DNA on anything." He scratches his head. "No animal DNA either. I can't make sense of it."

_Definitely vampire,_ I confirm in my head. "Maybe they're just really good at covering up their tracks," I offer with a shrug.

"That's what we're thinking, too. So whoever this guy is—he's good." Charlie looks up at me with an indiscernible look in his eyes. "I'm gonna be keeping closer tabs on you until we catch this guy, Bella. And I don't want you in the woods. Period."

"No argument here." Even though he doesn't say the actual words, this is Charlie's way of telling me he loves me. For a moment, I'm filled with the overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around him.

"Speaking of which … I found this package on the doorstep." In the palm of his outstretched hand, is a small package neatly wrapped in brown paper. The box couldn't be bigger than five inches across. "There's no return address, but it's addressed to you."

I take a step toward him and reach out to take the package, but Charlie doesn't relinquish it. Secretly, I'm hoping it's from Peter, though I have no idea what it might be.

"What? Are you going to have 'ol Trusty sniff it before I open it?" Trusty is a bloodhound owned by one of the deputies at the station. He's supposedly trained to detect drugs, but I'm still skeptical. I know there were lockers full of weed in High School and no one ever got busted.

"No." By Charlie's quick response I can tell that the thought crossed his mind.

"Well, does it smell funny? Or tick?"

"No. I shook it and there's something solid in there, but I can't figure out what it is."

"I'm sure it's fine, Dad." I manage to get my hand around the box, but Charlie still isn't letting go. "Look, I'll let you know if there's any white powder inside." He nods his head and hands over the box.

I set it down on the kitchen table and get his dinner from the refrigerator. Thankfully, he stops hovering and goes into the living room to sit down on the couch. I can hear the TV buzz to life and know his attention is now diverted. Once the oven is set to preheat, I grab what I need from under the kitchen sink and carry my box up the stairs. I study the weight of the little package, wondering what it might be.

If it's jewelry, it's got some substance to it. But a fuck and a half doesn't earn you jewelry in my book. Of course, I do get the sense that Peter is much older than he looks. From what the guys at the Res have said, it takes quite a bit of control for newer vampires to resist the bloodlust. Even with my stupid bloodletting, he still managed to resist it. So, I'm betting he's far from new to this life.

I toss the box down on the center of my bed and start getting to work. Popping off the lid of the aerosol can, I can already smell the fumes. I open the window, having to shove it to open more than a foot. I then liberally spray the WD-40 on the hinges. _Man, that smell packs a punch._ I can already feel my head swimming.

In fact, I hear this weird sound in my head, like a muffled buzzing. I look around for the source to find my brown box scooting across my bed on its own. I jump back from it, hugging the wall to try to get away from the demonic little box. I'm about to scream for Charlie when something dawns on me.

I pick up the box, which is still vibrating in my hand, and rip off the brown paper to reveal an ordinary brown cardboard box underneath. The vibration stops momentarily, and I peel the tape off and crack open the small package. A small silver phone is nestled inside, and as I look at it, it begins to vibrate _again_.

Not knowing what else to do, I answer it. "Uh … hello?"  
>"Well, it took you long enough." I hear a shrill soprano voice answer. The voice belongs to none other than Alice Cullen.<p>

"You bought me a cell phone?"

"Well, yes. This way, you can get in touch with me whenever you want to."

What makes her think I want to talk to her? Oh, that's right. She thinks we're going to be BFFs, the loony pixie." I already have a cell phone," I answer dryly.

"I know, but your other cell phone doesn't have Peter's number in it. This one does."

And just like that, Alice Cullen becomes my best friend. "Oh, thanks."  
>"You're welcome. By the way, I thought I would let you know that he's free tonight. Also, the dog whistle you bought <em>does<em> work, and you'll need to use it if you want to get out of the house."

I scramble for my purse and produce said dog whistle. _What the fuck?_ "How did you …?"

"I can see the future, sweetie, and now that I'm more familiar with you, it will be much easier to see yours in the future. Oh, look at that, a double entendre. I kill myself sometimes. Anywhos, having the wolves gone helps. Sorry about the timing on the phone. I was _supposed_ to call just as you opened it, but the wolf sitting outside your window interfered with my punctuality."

"Woah, woah, woah. Just slow down a minute and let me catch up. You can see the future?"

"Yes, and—"

"—and when the wolves are involved you can't see the future?

"Wow, I can't believe you got all of that."

The shock in her voice makes me feel like I should be wearing a padded helmet and a diaper. I bite back my sarcasm with the thought of seeing Peter. "So, I should use the dog whistle and then what?"

"Use the dog whistle and come to our house. Do you remember the way?"

"Yes, but—"

"See you soon!" The line goes dead. Part of me wonders whether it's all a trick. Maybe she's just luring me there with the promise of Peter so the Cullens can eat me.

There's only one way to find out. I look on the phone's menu and find the contacts. Sure enough, Alice and Peter's names are staring back at me in purple font.

I jab my index finger on the screen, selecting Peter's name, and then bring the phone to my ear.  
>Before the phone can even ring, he answers."Hello, my belle," he practically purrs. Hearing his voice sends shivers of excitement up my spine. My pussy squeals in excitement.<p>

"Um, hi," I squeak.

"Are you comin', or do I need to come get you?"

"No. No, I'm coming."

"See ya soon."

"Mmmmmhmmm." I hang up the phone and grab the dog whistle out of my purse. The window is still open, venting the WD-40 fumes out of my room. I crane my upper body out the window and breathe in as much air into my lungs as possible before belting it out on the noiseless whistle. Absentmindedly, I wonder which wolf I'll be torturing with my silent screech. _I hope it's Jake._

Not a moment after my lips touch the whistle, I hear a loud barking yelp. It's like the noise a dog makes when you accidentally step on its tail, only magnified times a bazillion. The bushes in the distance shake wildly, and I can just make out the retreating form of a sandy-brown wolf. _Poor Seth. _  
>I fly down the stairs, interrupting Charlie's tirade of expletives as he curses the neighbor's dog. I quickly tell him that I'm going to Angela's as I put on my coat.<p>

"What was in the box?" he asks. _Shit._

_"_Uh, I haven't opened it yet. I will when I get back."

"M-kay. Be careful out there, Bells."

I somehow manage to remain vertical as I slide across the wet concrete on my way to the truck. I climb in and throw it in reverse as the monster kicks to life.

I begin to get this giddy high when I turn onto the 101. I made it—ditched my canine watch dog _and _the nosy dad. I know the boundary line almost as well as the wolves, and the moment my tires cross it, I feel unseen eyes at my back. I turn to stare out my rear window several times, but see nothing.  
>Peter's waiting for me as I pull onto the gravel drive of the Cullens' large home, leaning up against the door jamb and looking positively scrumptious. Something immediately dawns on me. Until now, I've never seen him wearing anything other than his work uniform … <em>or his birthday suit<em>. My eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets at the sight of him clad in tight denim, equipped with a belt buckle large enough to pay homage to the package just south of it. His muscled arms are crossed over his chest exposed to the crisp Fork's air. He's wearing an unseasonable wife-beater, but you'll never hear me complain.

At least a minute passes by before I realize I'm still sitting in my truck, just staring at him. In a flash he's by my side, opening my door for me like a gentleman. I'm surprised he doesn't take the rusted door clean off its hinges.

Throwing caution to the wind, I leap into his arms and bury my face into the crook of his neck, taking in his delicious scent.

He chuckles deep in his chest. "I've missed you, too, _my belle_."


	9. Chapter 9

**Alone Time**

**Bella's Point of View**

"So, are all of them here?" I whisper into Peter's ear.

"You realize they can hear ya, right?" He asks at a normal volume as he carries me up to the front door in his arms. The weird thing is that it doesn't feel awkward, him carrying me like this—it feels … _good_. "And to answer your question—Jasper, Edward, and Carlisle are already gone. I also believe Alice and the girls will be headin' out soon."

"But you're stuck with me," Emmett announces as he swings the front door wide open, filling up the entire entryway.

"Em, go huntin' or somethin', will ya?" Peter asks.

"Okay, I see how it is." He levels with Peter and they exchange a fist pump. _Not very mature for a couple immortals_, I can't help but think.

Peter sets me on my feet inside while still keeping an arm around me as Alice comes bounding down the stairs, only to come to a screeching halt inches in front of me. I press myself tighter against Peter in an attempt to distance myself from the demented fairy, but there's nowhere to go.

"Er, thanks for the phone?" For some reason it comes out as a question. I'm just hoping that if I fill the time with commentary, there will be less time for hugging.

"Oh, it was nothing," She comments with a flip of her wrist. "Now you can get a hold of me whenever you want. Oh, and Peter too," she adds as an afterthought. She's dressed in something that looks straight off the runway—a dress in billowy silk with splashes of blues and purples, knotted and twined to form a bodice that flows down to an asymmetrical hem. The likes of which Fork's residents have never seen.

"Well, it was very … thoughtful." I smile awkwardly. Thankfully Mother hen and Bitchy Barbie come down the stairs with their huge designer handbags in tow. Mommy Dearest smiles as warmly as a dead person can, while Bitchy Barbie tries her best to pretend I don't exist. I have to say I prefer the latter of the two displays. At least Barbie doesn't hide her disdain for me.

"You two have a nice time. Be careful." Esme's eyes narrow minutely with the last statement, focusing her gaze only on Peter. I quickly decipher that '_be careful_' is actually code for '_don't slip up and eat her._' Though with the lack of warm fuzziness that I'm getting from Mummy dearest, I get the feeling she would be more upset over her ruined carpet than my untimely death.

"Bye, Bella!" Alice chirps and wraps me in the hug I was trying so desperately to avoid. No need to visit the chiropractor for a while. I think the insanely strong pigmy just realigned my back.

"Well now, where were we?" I ask as I stretch up onto my tiptoes and wrap my arms around Peter's neck. Peter clears his throat as his head ticks to the left twice. I glance to my left to find Emmett staring intently at us from across the room.

"Don't mind me. Just pretend I'm not here," he suggests, not moving from his perch on the couch.

"Sorry, Em. No show for you tonight. If ya wanted one, ya shoulda gone with Jasper an' Edward to the bar." Peter's comment didn't seem to make sense to me. _Jasper and Edward? In a bar?_

"Hell no! I'm too pretty to go to a place like _that_." Emmett seems offended, and I begin to catch on.

"Wait, they went to a gay bar?" I ask, unwinding my arms from around Peter's neck.

"Yup," Emmett confirms. "Ask Peter about the bet." He chuckles.

My head snaps back toward Peter. "What bet?" He grins from ear to ear, making me really want to dry hump him. I swear if Emmett wasn't in the room, I totally would. There's just something that lights up in his eyes—a devilish little glint that drives me crazy.

"We bet on a huntin' match. First one to bag five lions wins a night free of Edward. The loser had to wear assless chaps an' escort Edward to a gay bar in Seattle. Obviously, I'm here." I notice Emmett get up from the couch and pull out a cell phone. He begins to walk over to us with his eyes locked on the phone.  
>Emmett snickers before handing the cell over to me. <em>Oh, my God! <em>I burst out laughing at the image on the phone. It's a "rear view" of Jasper in his black chaps, a silvery shirt, and what I can only describe as a disco-cowboy hat.

"He's got a nice ass." I recover enough from laughing to comment, and suddenly, the phone is snatched out of my hand.

"Well, I'm sure there's lots o' fairies grabbin' that ass right about now," Peter brusquely comments.  
>Is that a hint of jealousy I detect? <em>Oh, my God. I think it is!<em>

_"_Well, I, for one, am thankful that you won the bet. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with you."  
>"And me," Emmett adds.<p>

"Leave," Peter commands. Emmett immediately stiffens and begins to walk toward the back door, unable to deny the level of authority in Peter's voice.

"Okay, but if you see any small red lights, just ignore them." Emmett grins before he exits.

Once I hear the door click closed behind Emmett, I grasp Peter's cool hand in mine and pull him away from the doorway.

"So, I never got the grand tour of the Cullen Mansion. The last time I was here it was more like the Spanish Inquisition." Really, I could care less about the tour. I'm only interested in seeing Peter's room. And more importantly his bed. Although, it would be nice to snap a picture of Gayward's room to rub in Angela's face.

He seems to ignore my comment entirely and brings his hand to the nape of my neck while staring into my eyes. "Why do ya always wear this?" He asks while his fingers fiddle with the rubber band around my hair. In one swift motion, my hair falls loose around my shoulders and I smell my favorite strawberry shampoo.

"There, that's better." Peter smiles, running his fingers through the stands of my hair. It feels glorious. I close my eyes, allowing my body to relax. Peter lets go of my hair and wraps both arms around my waist, cradling me against his own cool form. The temperature is warm inside the house, and his cool skin feels good against my cheek.

"Bella?"

"Mmmmhhmmm?"

"Shall we go upstairs?" There's a husky tone in his voice, and it warms me to the core. Without opening my eyes, I nod my head.

Wind rushes past and I get the same feeling you get when you're riding in a fast elevator, only magnified. I open my eyes to find we are no longer in the living room but upstairs, looking down a hallway lined with doors on each side. Peter has me pressed up against the wall as his fingers trace a trail between my collar bone and my temple. It's amazing to me how such a light feathery touch, deceptively innocent, can ignite such heat.

"Which room is yours?" We need to find a bed, and _fast_.

"None of 'em. All the rooms up here are claimed." I wrinkle my nose at the thought of fornicating in someone else's bed. Especially when that someone has extra heightened senses. _No, thank you._

"I think I'd like to go back down to the living room then." I try to hide my impatience.

"I thought ya wanted the grand tour?"

"Yes, I did. But I wanted the grand tour to start with your be … er—room. Your bedroom." _Nice save there_. _I'm sure he didn't notice_.

Peter rubs his chin in thought, a hint of a smile on his face as he contemplates something. "No Jasper'd kill me."

"Then come back downstairs. We'll watch TV." I take him by the hand and lead him back down the stairs to settle on the cream leather couch, pulling him down next to me. I fold my legs underneath me and turn toward Peter, who's oddly staring at the blank flat panel TV. His arms are bent behind his head, drawing attention to his biceps—_yum_. He's slouched into the couch, stretching his legs out with an expectant look on his face. The longer I stare at him, the more his devilish grin grows. I glance back at the television screen, wondering if the TV is on some "vampire mode" that I can't detect with my human senses.

Out of nowhere, arms wrap around me from behind and I'm suddenly lying across Peter's lap with his face an inch away from mine. He notices my instinctual fear and the smile falls from his face. I place a finger to each edge of his mouth and push upward, creating a mockery of his actual smile.

"There, that's better."

"Forgive me, Bella. I forget how different we are sometimes." I know he only meant to apologize for scaring me, but my insecure female brain gets caught up on the word _different_. Yes, we are _different_. He is perfection, and I am far from it. Simple. Plain. Ordinary. I turn away from his burgundy gaze. My self-esteem deflates underneath my self-imposed rejection.

He tenderly cups my face. "No, no, no," he whispers, refusing to let me turn away from him.

"Bella, listen to me. I only meant that sometimes bein' with ya feels so natural that I let my guard down. I forget how fragile ya are … how _precious_." My eyes flicker to his. I can't believe his words, they sound too good to be true.

"Peter, I have to ask you something."

He smiles down at me and releases my face. "Ask away."

"Did you kill those hikers the next county over?" I blurt. Bella, the mood killer, strikes again. Peter takes a moment to respond, eyeing me carefully. My heart starts beating a mile a minute, waiting for his answer. I know he hears it because his face turns to a look of concern. He reaches his hand out toward me, but I flinch away from him in my anxiety. He quickly withdraws, and I see that I've once again offended him by giving him the wrong idea.

With his face turned away from me, toward the wall of glass, he answers, "No." His response is low, but firm. I release the breath that I didn't know I was holding and wrap my arms around his middle.

"Thank you," I whisper into his chest. "I just needed to know." His arms settle around me, gently rubbing small circles on my back. His touch is guarded.

"I don't want you to fear me, Bella." His voice is filled with emotion.

I look up to find his face pained. "You don't scare me, Peter." He continues to stare off toward the windows. "Look at me, dammit!"

His face snaps to mine, and a moment later, his lips to my own. His kiss is fervent, needy. I return it without restraint, rising to my knees and straddling his hips to press my body against his. His hips immediately rise to meet mine and I moan at the contact.

He abruptly pulls away. "_Shit_!" He curses, letting his southern accent color his voice.

"What's wrong?" I ask, still breathless.

"Emmett's a pervert, an' I don't trust him further than I can throw him—which isn't very far." He huffs.

"Is he watching?" I ask, searching the pitch black windows for any sign of the lumbering peeping Tom.

"Where can we go?" There's got to be some room in this huge house that isn't claimed.

"He can see everything on this level of the house. All the bedrooms are upstairs, an' there's only the basement downstairs." He pauses. "Where there's also … no, never mind."

"What? The dungeon? All vampire lairs have a dungeon, right?" I trace a finger around his plump lips.

"Yes, of course. Though I'm not sure it's the type of "dungeon" yer referrin' to." _Really?_ It was just a joke, but now my interest is piqued.

"I want to see it."

"Alright, but remember, ya asked for it." _Oh, I'm asking for it, alright_, I think_._

"So, where's the hidden dungeon entrance? Do you twist a wall sconce, or pull out a certain book?" I giggle.

"No, there's a pocket door that branches off the main stairs, down to the basement," he says as he rises from the couch, adjusting himself. So it _is_ a hidden lair. I wrap both arms tightly around his one muscled arm as we descend the stairs toward the basement.

"Do ya see this seam here?" He asks, running his finger along a minute crack in the wood paneling. I have to squint to see it.

"Yeah, kinda." He lays his hand flush with the wall and pushes. Sure enough, a panel swings inward to reveal the pitch darkness beyond. Peter gropes the wall, and I hear the flick of a switch, a light illuminating the "dungeon" in a red glow. There are chains and straps suspended from the ceiling, a shiny silver pole bolted to the floor, and various tables covered in black cloth with whips and floggers strewn across them.

It takes me a while before I'm capable for words. "I guess the seemingly straight-laced Cullens aren't so straight laced." It was the only polite thing I could say.

"Unless you're referrin' to lacing up a leather corset, then no."

"Who …? Never mind, I really don't want to know," I amend.

"Don't ya?" He raises an eyebrow and leans against the black-painted wall. I cringe. You couldn't pay me enough to touch anything in here—walls included. But Peter picks up on something—my curiosity. And now that he's brought it up, I'm _dying_ to know. Rosalie and Emmett is my obvious guess, but I can't help but wonder over the possibility that I might be wrong.

"Okay, who _frequents _the dungeon?" I roll my eyes in an attempt to hide just how curious I really am.

"Esme and Carlisle," Peter announces. I hear the audible pop of my own jaw dropping.

"Don't you know it's always the goody-two-shoes who are really closet freaks?" Peter smiles at my reaction.

"That's just … _gross_. That is _not_ a mental picture I wanted in my head." Picturing Dr. Cullen clad in leather hot pants with a ball gag and a whip nearly has me dry heaving.

"Come on. I've seen how all the women at the hospital swoon over Dr. McDreamy." My eyes dart to his. _How does he know about Dr. Cullen's nickname? _

"Well, _I'm_ not one to swoon," I state defiantly. Peter disappears and reappears right beside me, a gust of wind knocking me in the face a moment after he rematerializes by my side.

"Are ya sure about that, _my belle_?" His cool breath tickles the skin on my neck. I attempt a response but it comes out more like a moan. That's all the invitation Peter needs.

He lifts me up easily, and I wrap my legs around his waist without hesitation. The scenery blurs and we reappear in a small, white room with only a sleek, black grand piano. He sets me down gently on the piano bench and lowers himself to his knees. Without taking his eyes off mine, he tugs up the bottom hem of my shirt. In one swift motion, it's tossed to the floor.

He stands to take off his shirt, his abdominal muscles rippling deliciously as he does so. I can't help myself. I stand to run my hands over the smooth planes of his chest, marveling at the puckered crescent shapes that decorate his flesh.

With less than steady hands, I undo his belt buckle, smiling silently when my fingers trace an engraved "Texas" etched into the silver. My eyes flicker to Peter's black ones as I slowly lower his zipper. He has to shimmy and wiggle a little to make his way out of the tight jeans. I stifle a gasp as his cock leaps out of his pants, finally freed from the binding material to stand proudly at attention.

_Good soldier._

Peter leans into me, pulling me flush against him with one arm. He gives my ass a playful squeeze before sliding my jeans down my legs, trailing his fingers along my inner thigh on his way back up before unceremoniously plopping my ass on the ivory keys. My eyes pop wide open at the sudden noise.

He gives me that devilish smile and places both hands between my knees, spreading my legs open and nestling his body between them.

I grab him, trying to pull him closer to me. There shouldn't be any space between us. I want him inside of me, _now_. He inches closer to me, resting the head of his massive cock at my entrance. Swirling his hips in small circles, he teases. No matter how hard I claw at his back and yank on his arms, he won't come any closer.

"Peter, _please_!" I beg.

"What is it, _my belle_?" His voice is raspy.

"Please, I _need_ you." I pant, trying to wriggle closer to him. It's no use though—he's too strong.  
>"Tell me what you want." He growls.<p>

"Fuck me, Peter. I want you to fuck me." He bucks his hips in response and the tip of his cock dips inside me for a moment before it's gone. I nearly cry out with want. "_Please_!"

"You're _mine_!" He growls plunging into me. My back arches toward him, needing him to fill me completely. Each thrust is joined by a piano accompaniment. I'm sure every vampire in a hundred-mile radius can hear us, but I could hardly give a fuck at this point.

* * *

><p>You know, movies give people very false views about sex. For instance, post-coital bliss is completely a myth. I mean, who really cuddles right after sex? Lie there too long and stuff starts to stick together that shouldn't. Besides, I really have to pee after great sex. And if it's spectacular sex, I need a sandwich.<p>

Which is why I'm in the drive-thru lane at McDonald's.


	10. Chapter 10

**Fancy**

**Peter's Point of View**

"Fancy," her nametag says, and I'm sure she thinks she is, too—with her blue, glittery eye shadow and fake eyelashes, down to the caked on concealer that's doing a piss-poor job hiding the herpes around her mouth. Trust me on this one. I've drained enough whores to diagnose herpes better than any doctor.

"Will this be all for you, sir?" She asks me, flashing her nicotine-stained teeth as she tries to enhance her cleavage by squeezing her arms to each side of her chest. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was trying to get my attention.

"Yes," I reply, trying to make my voice as steely as possible. Hell, I even angle my head up toward the florescent lighting, hoping she'll be put off by my red eyes. She sees them, alright, but doesn't even bat a fake eyelash.

I grab the brown paper bag and get out of the "Super" market as quickly as possible. Damned human food always makes my stomach churn. I hope Bella likes the stuff in a can because it smells the least offensive.

I'm about to make my way into the cover of the forest when I smell something rank—Fancy's perfume.

"Excuse me, mister, but I think you dropped this." I turn to see her sauntering up to me, her left hand on her hip and her right hand extended toward me. In it is a yellow sticky note. I can see from five feet away that there's a phone number on it with "Fancy" written underneath in a girly script—the tail of the _'y' _curling around to form a heart. I'm sure the phrase "for a good time" is implied.

"I didn't drop anythin'." My tone is hard. Fancy doesn't take the less-than-subtle hint. She stops a foot from me, and I see a flicker of fear flash in her eyes as she looks over my shoulder toward the dark forest behind me. Her fear is invigorating, and I realize that I might need to amend my earlier statement to Bella. After our recent romp in the hay, I realize I _could_ use a quick refuel. The difference between me and Bella is that what I want isn't on the menu at McDonald's. It's sitting in the back corner, downing a Big Mac and fries as it's coming down off of meth.

Now, Fancy is obviously a user, which qualifies her as food in my book. Fortunately for her, she has an actual job, which increases the chances that she might have kids at home. I've never broken the "bear cub" clause, and I don't plan on it tonight.

Taking the piece of yellow paper from Fancy, I take a quick glance at the text for her benefit. My eyes flicker back to her hopeful face.

"No, this definitely isn't mine." Crumpling up the piece of paper, I place it back in Fancy's hand, noticing the slightly broken expression on her face. If only she could understand that my rejection tonight means she'll live to see tomorrow.

Her hand closes tightly around the wad of paper as her mouth forms into a thin line. Without saying a word, she turns on her heel and heads back toward the store. I take off into the tree cover, leaving only a gust of wind in my wake. Fancy spins back around, her eyes quickly darting around as she stumbles in retreat. Now she'll have an interesting story to tell about a dark stranger who disappeared into the night. I'm sure she'll change some things and gloss over a few details, but I've left her with a little consolation. I'm not sure why it bothers me in the first place—whether or not I hurt a human's feelings. After all, their existence on this earth is so short-lived to begin with. Why should I worry about an event that has so little impact in the grand scheme of things?

I halt in my tracks. I realize I've been too caught up in my own emotions to step back and examine the facts—the _differences_. I know Bella's fragile and breakable. I'm always afraid to move too fast, to use too much pressure, to go too deep. But I restrain myself around her—not because she's human, but because she's precious to me. I'd never forgive myself if I hurt her. Bella's life is fleeting. Her days are numbered just like every other human that walks this earth.

_I need to talk to Carlisle._ As I run toward to Cullens' home, I feel my chest ache with the pull toward my mate. It's a pulsating pain, like the beating of a heart—_her_ heart. Each pulse of pain carries with it both joy and misery, reminding me that she's here, she's alive, and she's _mine_. It also reminds me that those beats are numbered. They have an expiration date, and I have no clue when that is. It could be two minutes from now or seventy years from now. It's the uncertainty of it all that kills me the most. _I'm going to have to take her life and hope she doesn't hate me for doing it. There's no other way._

My timing couldn't have been better. The engine of Carlisle's Mercedes is still warm. I barely leave the front door on its hinges when I burst into the living room.

"Is there something wrong, Peter?" Carlisle asks as I see his face flicker through a myriad of emotions in only a second.

"No, not now at least. I jus' need to talk to ya about somethin' important." Esme's ears perk up, hearing my words. "Alone, if ya don't mind, Esme." She and Carlisle share a look. Esme gives Carlisle one last meaningful glance before closing the door behind her. I wait to hear the sound of her retreating footsteps before I begin.

"Why did ya save Esme?"

"Well, because she was dying, of course," he answers simply.

I immediately shake my head."I understand that, but yer a doctor. People die every day. Why her? Why'd ya save her? Did ya know that you were … that she was yer mate? Could ya feel somethin' for her that made ya do it?"

"Yes, although it was so subtle I didn't realize it at the time. I did feel that there was something different about her. Of course I turned her to save her life, but I did it knowing that she was special for some reason. I only realized that she was indeed my mate when she began the transformation. Over the three days, I felt the bond between us grow. When she awoke, she felt it as well."

Carlisle's eyes noticeably glaze over and his mouth turns up in a smile. "Newborn mates are, shall I say … feisty." The look in Carlisle's eyes nearly has me dry heaving.

"Thanks for the heads-up, Doc." It's bad enough that I know about the dungeon. I don't need descriptions, too. "So yer telling me that I have no choice but to turn her?"

"Are you considering something else? I thought you would realize that it's the only way. You cannot leave her a fragile human. If you were to lose her, Peter, it would utterly destroy you."

I think I've already experienced that feeling on some level.  
>"I apologize for my interference in yours and Bella's relationship. It was before I knew that you were mates. I misjudged the situation and you. For that I am sorry."<p>

I wave off his apology. After all, it's not necessary. "So this matin' thing is always a two-way street, right?"

"What do you mean by that?" Carlisle asks, before realizing the root to my question. He tries to hide a laugh. "You are asking if Bella feels the same for you?"

I nod, feeling dumber by the minute.

"Well, I have never seen it happen any other way. Mates are two parts to a whole. Bella should feel just as strongly for you as you do for her. If you have any doubt, why not ask her yourself?"

"Sure, I'll just explain the whole 'we're mates an' now yer stuck with me for eternity' bit an' see how she takes it. I'm sure it'll go real smooth." I shake my head and let out a humorless laugh. "There's no easy way to start that conversation. I just need to give her some time to figure it out on her own, that's all. It's her decision whether she wants me to turn her or not." I feel like a whiny child after my little rant. Even Carlisle is looking at me with that 'are you done?' look. Though, I'm sure he has to listen to girly-boy Edward and the deranged pixie all the time.

And speaking of girly-boy, I hear him and the rhinestone cowboy pull up on the gravel drive. A moment later, an intense wave of depression washes over me. I suddenly find myself curled in a fetal position, sobbing tearlessly on the floor. If I had a knife, I'd be hacking away at my wrists right now.

"Jasper, let him up," Carlisle demands. It takes a while, but I feel the overwhelming urge to wear black subsiding. I stand up and smooth out my clothes, shaking off the last of the emotional stupor.

"Asshole." Jasper glares in my direction.

"Does yours hurt?" I retort.

The Major appears right in front of my face, his veins bulging and eyes wide and crazed. My gaze immediately drops to the floor, falling back into my old role as his subordinate. It only happens for a moment before I realize "the Major" is still clad in ass-less chaps and a disco ball for a shirt.  
>Our eyes meet again. As he tries to maintain his position of superiority, a taunting smile spreads across my face, further infuriating him.<p>

"Boys, calm down," Carlisle commands. "Jasper, you knew the details of the bet when you accepted the terms. Peter, Jasper upheld the terms of the bet, which is now over. Let us all put this behind us."

"Put this behind us?" Edward asks with a twinkle in his eyes. "How can I when I just met the most amazing person in the whole wide world?" I can feel a girly squeal fest coming on and crawl into the recesses of my mind for safety. "_Ugh_, I'm calling Alice. You testosterone-filled people just _won't_ understand." And with a flip of his wrist, Sparkle Boy ascends the stairs with cell phone in hand. I do my best to tune out Edward and Alice's conversation.

"Go change, Jasper. I can't keep a straight face with ya lookin' like that."

He doesn't answer me, but I feel a taste of his irritation before he disappears and reappears in a much-less-gay getup. Still gay by my standards, but it's a giant leap in the right direction. Rub a little dirt on his designer jeans and he might pass for a man.

"I've suffered through enough tonight. You _will not_ mention this again. Do ya understand me?" I detect a hint of menace in Jasper's tone, but it's a far cry from the stone-cold Major.

"I can't guarantee that I won't bring it up again, but I'll try to make an effort to refrain from mentionin' it for yer sake." Jasper glares at me and runs his fingers through his disheveled blond locks. He's clearly on edge, and I realize I might need to back off a bit. Of course, it might be good to rile him up a bit. Maybe some of the pansy tendencies his mate has formed in him will wear off. Then again, he might go ballistic on my ass and leave a Peter-sized hole in the sheet rock. Esme won't be too happy about that.

"Well, now that things are back to normal, I think I'll go for a hunt," I announce, before making my exit. I hear Carlisle's exaggerated sigh. He still continues to hope that one day I'll "see the light" and turn veg. Well, he'll be hoping for a long while, I'm afraid. I'm not going to trade my steak for tofu. I don't care if it's the "PC" thing to do.

As usual, I'm heading toward Seattle. It's just easier to find a meal that'll go unnoticed in the bigger cities. It might sound sick, but I feel like I'm doing a service. I'm saving taxpayer dollars by getting rid of the criminals and the drug fiends who end up spending time in the slammer. And in case you're wondering, I maintain a permanent residence in Tennessee. I have a driver's license, a social security number, and a bank account. So, I _do_ pay my taxes. Well, I pay the taxes for Grant Hopper, my assumed identity.

Grant was a rich kid who ended up on the wrong side of the tracks. Conveniently, _for me at least_, disowned by his family, he was moments away from death when I found him—overdosed on pain pills and Ambien. I keep close track of his family to make sure they don't go sticking their noses in my business.

_Strange._ Checking the air, I canvas my surroundings. No, I'm definitely still on the Cullens' territory, but I still smell the dog on my heels. Son of a bitch is following me. I stop, waiting for the pup to show himself. Sure enough, a red-brown wolf makes his way into the moonlight from out of the dense foliage. His head is lowered and his teeth are bared. I have half a mind to break his jaw. I can do it too, probably before he even realizes what's happening.

"Did ya get lost, little pup?" I taunt him, begging him to attack me. He snarls wildly at my words, his beady eyes reflecting the light of the full moon. "You do realize I don't speak overgrown dog. If ya have somethin' to say to me, then you'll need to shift, or whatever ya call it. But if you're here for a fight, then make yer move." I shift into my fighting stance—low to the ground, balanced on the balls of my feet, and shifted to the side. The wolf's body begins to shake, and I'm not sure whether he's shifting or just really pissed. He begins to pace back and forth before me, his eyes never leaving mine. He's looking for a weak point.

He won't find one.


	11. Chapter 11

**Heroin and Some Deep Shit**

**Peter's Point of View**

I don't need Sparkle Boy to tell me what this is about. The pup's pissed off about me and Bella. I guess I ruined his plans of a happy family with a litter of pups. Just the thought of him with her sets my blood to boil. It's all I can do to keep my rage in check.

I let out a warning growl. "I'm warnin' ya, dog. I won't back down." The dumb mutt takes that as his cue to attack. He springs forth, mouth agape and aimed at my throat. I wait, giving him the false satisfaction that he might actually have me, but then side step at the last moment. A heap of matted fur goes flying over my shoulder and careens headfirst into the packed ground. Taking advantage of its distraction, I grab a hind leg, and with the flick of my wrist, I feel the tendons and bones snap sickly. The wolf bellows in agony and begins to shake again. The violent shaking is accompanied by more crunching and cracking noises as the wolf's skin begins to stretch and move. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that creature from _Alien_ was going to burst out of its chest any second now.

The wolf's howl of pain turns from bestial to human. Soon, there's a naked Indian with a compound fracture to his left leg. The white of bone stands out in the moonlight and the smell of its blood is even more revolting than I could have imagined.

"Fuck!" Jake screams, his voice cracking at the end. "Fuck it hurts! Mother … fucker! You broke my fucking leg!" He moans and rolls on the ground, gripping his leg and glaring at my accusingly. I'm completely at a loss here. Do I say sorry? I really don't regret doing it. The dog wanted a fight and it got what it asked for, plain and simple. Deciding the best course of action, I pull out my cell phone and consider dialing Carlisle. The problem is the dumb wolf won't quit his yapping and bellyaching.  
>"Can ya keep it down?" I snap at the mutt, but he doesn't let up.<p>

"Alright, but you've forced me to do this." I kneel down next to his head, grabbing a handful of oily black hair. He immediately squeals in fear and claws at my hands.

"What are you doing?" He half shrieks, half squeaks.

"Shuttin' ya up." And with that, I pound his head into the ground with just enough force to knock him out—effectively shutting his ass up.

I dial Carlisle and explain the situation. He's shocked when I tell him what happened. I'm not sure if the shock is because I broke the wolf's leg or that I didn't just leave it in the woods. I'm actually surprised that the Clairvoyant Cupie doll hasn't already told him what's happened.

I hear Carlisle approaching less than two minutes after my call. He arrives on scene with his little black bag and assesses the damage.

"He attacked you on our territory?" His tone is incredulous. Obviously he just assumes I'm the instigator.

"Yup." Carlisle shakes his head at my reply and returns to his ministrations.

"You got this, Doc? 'Cause I still need to hunt before my shift at the hospital tomorrow." There's no point in me standing here like an idiot.

He hesitates to answer me. "Sure, son."

I waste no time and relieve myself from the awkward situation. Idly, I wonder if Bella will be pissed at me when she finds out I broke the dog's leg. It's a strange notion—worrying that she might be upset with me. I know my actions were completely justified. Beyond that, I exercised restraint by leaving the bastard alive. He was obviously going for a kill shot, and I just broke a limb—something that will heal. I have half a mind to ask Carlisle to set the bones off a little. It'll serve him right to walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Not that goodly Carlisle would even consider it for a moment. One can dream.

Hell, maybe the mutt will be too embarrassed to mention it to her. I shake away the strange thoughts that plague my mind. I need a clear head for hunting. Distraction leads to sloppiness, and I have better table manners than that.

I arrive in a dark alley in a nearly vacant industrial section of town. This area of Seattle has become my preferred hunting ground. There's always a user or two passed out and face down in their own vomit. Tonight proves no different. In the distance, I see a still form lying in the middle of the alley. The heartbeat is audible, but I know the person isn't simply asleep. No one in their right mind would pick _that_ spot as a good place for a little shut eye—not with the feces-infested water that diverges there on its course toward the sewer system.

The stench is something you grow accustomed to. Besides, the blood of a user is still fillet mignon compared to the tofu "veg diet" the Cullens eat. If I concentrate hard enough on the smell of blood, everything else melts into the background. I discover this human has a thing for heroin. Excuse me, _she_ has a thing for heroin. Now that I'm close enough, it's easy to discern the curve of the female's hips, even underneath the oversized coat she's wearing. There's usually a noticeable difference in the scents of males and females, but when your blood is a potent cocktail of alcohol and heroin, it drowns out the subtle _female_ aroma. This is usually a helpful thing. The less you know about your food, the less it bothers you afterward.

I roll her over and nearly stumble backwards at the vision before me. Wide brown eyes look up at me from underneath a mess of wild brown hair. Her mouth parts in surprise, and a blush colors the pale skin of her cheeks. It's too much for me to take. She looks too much like her—I _can't_.

A furious growl escapes me. I know she isn't Bella, but I still can't bring myself to _hurt_ her—to open up her veins and drain her until those brown eyes glaze over.

The girl scurries away from me, trying to put the wall at her back. I can only imagine what kind of devil I must look like in her drug-induced state. As I continue to stare at her as she cowers in fear, I realize that the similarities between her and my Bella are few. This girl's eyes have a lackluster appearance, and her hair looks as dry as a haystack. I should be able to drain her. It's just a meal, nothing more. I'd be doing the girl a favor by saving her from all the evils of this world that she's gotten herself into.

I take a step closer, and she coils even smaller, pressing herself hard against the metal building. Her fear is palpable, and this is the point where I would usually be salivating venom at the intensified smell of her blood—but there's _nothing_. What the _fuck_ is wrong with me?

I grind my jaw shut and clench my fists closed so tightly that I can feel fissures form around my knuckles. I need to leave. _Now. _I don't need an audience to my mental turmoil.

There's no need to keep the human façade for someone who is so far down the rabbit hole that they may never surface. All I'll be to her is a drug-induced trip that she probably won't even remember. If only I could forget _her_ so easily. There are more than a handful of memories that I'd like to wash away.

After I drain a vagrant whose blood is more like two parts Jack Daniels to one part plasma, I have the overwhelming urge to see Bella. This really isn't something out of the ordinary, but that heroin addict really struck a nerve with me. I glance at my watch, but it's 2:30 in the morning, and humans need their sleep.

**Bella's point of view**

"Two thousand, three-hundred and forty-four bottles of beer of the wall, two—hell, who do I think I'm kidding? This isn't working!" It's past midnight, and I'm still wide awake, my mind in turbo overdrive.

I blame Ang. Our last conversation started the wheels turning in my brain, and now I can't shut the damned thing off. I'm going to be fucking worthless tomorrow if I don't get some sleep.

_'No strings attached fucking.'_

The truth in those words didn't dawn on me until I finished my post-sex Happy Meal earlier tonight. _Hhmm, I guess it was literally a 'Happy' meal_. And see, there I go again. Sex, sex sex. It's all I can think about when I'm with Peter. Hell, it's pretty much all I can think about when I'm _not_ with Peter. I'm sure it doesn't help that his fucking name is slang for _penis_.

Damn it, why do I have to be such a girl? Why can't I have absolutely mind-blowing sex without having to bring _feelings_ into the equation? I can't delude myself into thinking that what Peter and I have going on is exclusive. I'm probably nothing more than a fuck buddy to him. That's just the reality of it.

I mean, what kind of guy screws someone in a utility closet and then carries out the rest of his work shift like nothing happened? _The kind of guy who's used to screwing random people in utility closets. That's fucking who_. I choke on a broken sob that threatens to bubble out of my throat. The ache is back in my chest, too. I can't believe I've been reduced to a sniveling … _girl_.

"Don't cry, you idiot. Suck it up, Bella." My pep talk isn't working.

"I am truly pathetic," I mumble face down into my pillow. The whole girly, emotional thing is not me, and I don't know how to deal with any of it.

There's a knock at the door and my head whips around in panic, causing the scenery to blur.

"Bells, it's past midnight. You okay?" It's Charlie. I forget about how much of a light sleeper he is. It must be that police training.

"Sorry, Dad. I can't sleep."

"Can you try to keep it down? Uh … _er_ … maybe some warm milk will help. Or get some turkey from the fridge. The tryptophan is supposed to help you sleep."

"Okay." Yeah, just what I want—cold lunch meat and warm milk. I hear his door close and plop back down on my bed. My mind jumps right back into the thick of it again, not missing a beat.

The thought of Peter with someone else makes my stomach do jumping jacks. Jealousy is new to me, and we aren't getting along too well.

I can try to fool myself into thinking that he might actually have feelings for me. After all, he has a cute nickname for me. That should say something, right?_ Or maybe that's just how he remembers me among all the other women he's currently banging._

There's not any gossip going on about him at work, and that's saying a lot. Nurses like to gossip more than any other group of people on this planet. You'd think that HIPPA would get in the way of that, but it doesn't seem to faze them one bit. It seems like every day there's a new rumor going around about Dr. McDreamy. Strangely though, there's not even a peep about my McSteamy. He can't be boning people left and right at work and stay completely under the radar. Those women are hawks. They miss nothing.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It's now two thirty in the morning. I lie back on my bed with a sigh, but not before a shiny, silver object calls out to me. I'm trying to avoid thinking about it, but it's not working.

I want to call him. I want to hear his voice and have him tell me that everything is okay. I need to hear him say he lo—likes me. _Only_ me.

Is it normal to have feelings about someone you barely know? Is this what it's like to rebound? I'm ashamed at how little I know about this man who I've screwed three times. In fact, I've made a list. Yes, I'm a list person. I have lists to organize my lists. They help me organize my brain, and right now, it's in dire need of organization.

So here it is:

1. He's a vampire.

2. His name is Peter … last name, no clue.

3. He's from Texas? Just an educated guess here.

4. He's Jasper's "brother." Not sure of the exact relation.

5. He's going through a "rough time."

6. He drinks human blood.

7. He has scars all over his body.

8. His eyes turn black when he's hungry or turned on.

9. I can dig my nails into his back all I want and it won't hurt him.

10. He has a very talented tongue, and hands, and …

That's the point where my list becomes counter-productive. When distraction doesn't help, and neither does writing it down, the only option I'm left with is talking it out.

I'm tempted to call Ang, but she has school in the morning, so it wouldn't be right to wake her up. In a way, it is her fault that I'm still awake. In reality, she just made me aware of details my mind was conveniently avoiding.  
>The stupid shiny, silver phone catches my eye again, making my heart flutter. <em>I shouldn't call him.<em> I'm not rational right now. They last thing I need to do is have a mental breakdown while I'm talking to him. That typically doesn't bode well for a new relationship—if that's what we can call this thing we have going on here.

On the other hand, is it right to leave him blissfully unaware of the mental turmoil that he's causing me? _No, I need to call him. _

I swipe the shiny phone from my nightstand and flip it open. His name is glaring back at me in purple text. Taking a deep breath and holding it, I dial Peter. There's a fraction of a ring before I hear his voice—his incredibly smooth, sexy voice.

"Bella? Is something wrong?" He sounds shocked, surprised, and concerned all wrapped in one.

"Um, no. I—I just wanted to … to talk." I stutter, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes—I'm mean, no. Er … I mean, I _do want_ you to come over, which is why you shouldn't."

"Am I supposed to understand what that means?" He chuckles. It's a sexy, husky sound.

"No." I sigh. "I don't even understand it. It's just better that you stay there … wherever there is, and I stay here."

"You should be asleep. Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, I know. I just needed to talk to you."

"Well, I'm all yours."

I laugh at his choice of words. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

"You're makin' me wish I was Edward. And that's not somethin' I thought I'd ever say. I can't read yer mind, belle, and frankly, yer not makin' a whole lot of sense. Are you sure something isn't wrong?"

"I'm not sure about anything anymore, Peter. I know that doesn't make any sense to you, but I'll try my best to explain myself." I take a deep breath. "What is going on between us?"

There's silence on the other end for a long while, long enough for my stomach to churn and the aching pain to start in my chest.

"I don't know how to answer that," he finally admits. I feel my heart fall, and the ache turns into a stabbing, throbbing pain in my chest. Hot tears flood my eyes. I'm not sure how long I can hold on before the flood gates open to a whole new world of hurt.

"Do you … _like_ me?" I can barely hear my own voice over the thudding of my heart. I'm waiting impatiently for his response, and when it comes, it's almost too much for me to take.

He _laughs_. _Laughs!_

"Bella, what I feel for you it's …" Peter struggles with his words. He's probably trying to let me down easy. The whole _it's-not-you-it's-me-bit_. "Well, it goes deeper than likin' you."

Now it's my turn for the long pause while I process what just happened. Neurons are firing, but nothing makes any sense upstairs.

"Come again?" I squeak.

"I'd rather talk about this in person." There's a strange quality to his voice.

"Well, that's a problem, 'cause when we're together there's not usually much talking going on."

"Huh, well I guess yer right about that. I just can't help myself around you. All good intentions go right out the window."

"I know the feeling. Can you just answer one question for me tonight?" It's the thing that's been bouncing around in my head, making it impossible to concentrate on anything else.

"Shoot."

I screw my eyes closed and ball my fists. I've got to spit this out before I lose my gumption.  
>"Is there anyone else?" I blurt.<p>

"Bella." His tone is chastising. "Come to the window." I immediately look toward my window, but I don't see Peter.

"This isn't a good idea, Peter."  
>"What I have to say should be said in person, <em>my belle<em>. I promise I'll be on my best behavior." I walk up to the window and see Peter standing outside. His right hand is holding the phone to his ear, while the left is crossed over his chest. "Cross my heart."

I can't help the smile that comes to my face at the sight of him. He's still wearing the yummy wife beater and tight, penis-hugging jeans.

"Okay, you can come up, but you need to be quiet," I warn him.

"Yes, I haven't forgotten your father's extra-sensory hearing."

In a flash, he scales the tree and is at my window, perched on its ledge. I slowly open the window, hoping that the WD-40 did the trick. To my relief, it slides open noiselessly.

Peter is inside in a heartbeat. I feel hands on my shoulder and he spins me around to face him. His burgundy eyes search my own.

"Bella, there isn't—nor will there ever be—anyone else but you." I can't believe what I am hearing. It didn't seem to make sense. We must be trapped in some weird, alternate reality where everything really _does_ work out to my favor.

"Am I dreaming?" I pinch my own arm, and sure enough, I can feel it. Peter chuckles at my display.

"No, you're not dreamin', but you should be. It's way past my human's bedtime," he whispers.

I take his large, cold hand in mine and lead him toward my bed. His eyebrow quirks, and I immediately know where his thoughts are going. I climb into bed, pull my old quilt up over me, and scooch over as far as I can without falling off the bed. I pat the left side, and Peter gingerly sits down next to me, his back against the headboard. The mattress groans under his considerable weight.

He still has a confused expression on his face.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?" I ask as I wrap my arm around him and settle my head on his lap. It's not exactly as comfortable as I would have thought. It's more like snuggling up against a rock. Not to mention, his crotch is literally inches away from my face, and I have to force myself not to think about it.

"So, Texas, is that where you're from?" I need a distraction. His cold belt buckle that's currently pressed against my right cheek makes me think of something. Since it doesn't look like I'm going to be catching any shuteye for the time being, I should add a few things to my list.

"Yes, originally, I'm from Texas. Brownsville, Texas. I was born Peter Lee Barrett in January of eighteen forty-eight. The third child of John and Clara Barrett. My whole human existence revolved around wars. First, it was the Mexican-American War, later the Civil War, and then the Blood Wars of the South …"

Peter went on to tell me his life story—_both _of them. Most of his human memories were limited, and I got the feeling that he left out a lot when he talked about his time with Jasper and Maria in Mexico. I only hoped that as time went on, he'd realize that he could share everything with me—even the really shitty stuff.

Then, there was Charlotte. He had this faraway look in his eyes when he talked about her. His pain had been too real for me to feel jealous over the memory of her. It had also helped that he repeatedly reassured me that even though he thought he had truly loved her—had loved her to what he thought was his fullest—there's no comparison to how he felt for me. That had been the point where I became a total girl and sobbed into his chest like a little bitch. He had distressed over my reaction, saying he had "trouble understandin' human's reactions," but he calmed down once I explained that they were happy tears. I saw the gears in his mind working—logging that for future reference.

I can tell he's on the verge of something really heavy as the sun began to rise—the _bastard_. No matter how many times I blink and try to force my eyes to stay open, I can't. Charlie begins to shuffle around his room, putting the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

Peter ducks out the window, leaving me with a kiss and a promise to see me later. Then, I got the most blissfully deep sleep that I think I've ever had in my life. Well, besides that night after the peyote incident.

Anyway, I wake up refreshed and ready for the day, or afternoon, at the ass-crack of 3:15.


	12. Chapter 12

**A Twist of Fate**

**Peter's point of View**

I was well aware of the wolf outside Bella's window before I left her room. This guard detail they have going on is really getting in my way. After all, I've been told that Forks is mutual territory. I have just as much of a right to be here as they do.

Silently, I open the window and land without a sound on the wet grass. The pack leader appears from behind some brush at the border of the forest surrounding Bella's house. The fact that it's the pack leader instead of some little pup is significant. He isn't playing watch dog. He's here for a confrontation.

I stretch my senses to hear the sound of Bella's even breathing and steady heartbeat. She's in such a deep sleep that we could probably tear each other to shreds out here and she'd never know. I only hope it doesn't come to that.

The large, dark wolf makes his way into the clearing, never taking his coal-black eyes off of me. I get the feeling he's pissed, though he doesn't seem ready to attack. Fortunately, I know all too well that looks can be deceiving. I keep my guard up.

"You do know that I can't read your mind. If you'd like to talk, you'll have to change to yer human form." His head cocks to the side as he studies me. "I won't attack ya," I add in earnest. Besides, I wouldn't want to disturb the police chief. A murder in his own backyard might draw some unnecessary attention.

The wolf retreats into the cover of the forest. I hear the sickening pops and cracks of bones and muscles contorting, and a moment later, a human appears before me. He actually manages to be somewhat dignified while buck naked, I'll give him that.

"I apologize, but you must understand my hesitation. I am not much stronger than any other human in this form."

"No need. Now why are ya here? It's obvious that Bella an' her father are unharmed, so this must be about the wolf that attacked me." I choose my words carefully, gauging his reaction. There's only a slight tick of his facial muscles when I mention the wolf.

"That is why I am here. Jacob had no right to attack you. I wanted to … _thank_ you for leaving him alive." I can tell that it's difficult for him to apologize to a vampire, but I also realize that the man's honor cannot allow this to go unsaid. I admire him for it.

I point up to Bella's window. "Thank her for Jacob's life. If she didn't have some type of friendship with him, he'd be a dead man."

He nods his head in understanding. "There's something that I must say where Bella is concerned."

Since he's making allowances here, I decide to do so as well. "Shoot."

"Know that if you turn her, we are bound by our treaty to kill you both."

_Well, fuck me._ Not wanting have my ire on display, I simply walk away. Yet another thing to consider. _We'll have to leave before I change her—_if_ I change her._

Earlier, I was just about to get down to the nitty gritty when Bella's dad started shuffling about. Not to mention, my poor girl could barely keep her eyes open. If I'm being honest with myself, that's part of the reason I brought it up. If she took it badly, it'd only be remembered as a weird dream.  
>I know it's definitely not my normal approach, but Bella has me walking on egg shells. This new information doesn't help things either.<p>

"Fuck." I punch a hole through a tree. _What if I can't do it alone? What if I kill her? _The pull is there again—the throbbing ache in my chest. I clutch at the stone flesh over my dead heart. I'm not used to this vulnerability, this uncertainty. It's driving me crazy.

Leaving Bella to sleep, I head back to the Cullen house. I don't really have anywhere else to go before my shift. Maybe Alice will let Jasper come play for a while to help me get my mind off things.  
>There's tension in the air before I even step through the front door. I don't need to have Jasper's gift to feel it. The place is nearly pulsating. Jasper and Alice are having a quiet conversation, their voices too low to make out any actual words. Emmett and Rosalie are <em>busy<em> as usual, and Carlisle is in his study. Nothing seems out of the ordinary at first glance, but something's still _off_.

I open the door and find that the living room is empty. Plopping down onto the sofa, I wait. My spidey-sense is tingling. I feel an ambush coming on. Sure enough, Fairy Boy pulls the basement door off its hinges and is at my throat before you can say 'shit.'

A fraction of a second later, I'm at his back with my hand tightening around his scrawny neck.

"What's going on here?" Jasper asks. I guess it's his turn to play mediator.

"Why don't ya ask him?" I bite out. "He's the one who attacked me."

Sparkles stops struggling for a moment and tries to suck in a breath of air. I let up a bit to hear what he has to say.

"He—he _fornicated_ on my _baby_," Edward squeals, his voice climbing two octaves by the end of the sentence before ending in a broken sob.

I turn my attention to Jasper, still not letting go of Sparkle Boy, and shrug my shoulders. "I had sex on his piano. It's not like it's a big deal."

"Big deal? Big _deal_!" Edward surprises me and ducks and spins around my arm to face me. He's shaking with anger, and his eyes are as black as ink.

I take a step back from him. "Look, I'm sorry, 'kay." I'm really not, but I'll suck it up to get Edward off my balls. He's already smeared purple glitter on my shirt, and with him facing me like this, it looks more like were doing the two-step than having a squabble.

"Do you know how many hours I've spent polishing out your … _filth_? Hhhhmm?" I try hard not to crack a smile, but I can't help it. "But I can still smell the stench of that … that _whore_ in the air!" He adds, spitting venom in my face.

Everything is suddenly tinted red, and the air between us is charged with unspent energy. I send Edward flying through the front door, splintering the wood into a thousand little pieces. Before his body even touches the ground, I haul him back into the air with a sound kick to the solar plexus. I can't even enjoy the look of ultimate terror on his face. All I want to do is crush him into a million little pieces just like the front door.

I launch myself skyward, still deciding which blow I'll land next. Then, a hand wraps around my calf and my face meets the gravel drive with a resounding thud. Before I can recover, my arm is wrenched behind my back and a boot is pressed against my face.

"Ya can't kill him, Pete. No matter how much fun it'd be."

"Where is he?" I roar, but it's no use. Jasper won't let me up. The more I resist him, the more he twists my arm. Pain radiates throughout my body as my tendons stretch to their limit.

"Carlisle's talkin' him down."

"Let me up. This _isn't_ finished. He _will_ pay." I struggle for a moment, but the cracking of my clavicle is a reminder that it's no use.

"I'll let ya up, but you _will not_ attack him. We'll go for a run. Jus' you an' me. Blow off some steam."

One minute, I think the Major is back in action, and the next, my hope is squashed. I don't need a stroll through the fucking forest, picking daisies and shit. I need to _hit_ something—to _break_ something—preferably Edward's sparkly face.

I remain still and quiet and try my best to get my emotions in check. Jasper won't let me up until he's sure I won't attack. He wants calm, so I give him calm. I feel his grip on my wrist slacken, and soon the boot is removed.

Now, I listen. Sure enough, I hear Edward's whiny voice coming from Carlisle's office. He's still near hysterics, crying over how I defiled his precious piano. My anger starts to surface again. Jasper's hand claps my shoulder, giving it a shake.

"C'mon. Let's go." Unlike the old Jasper, it's a suggestion, not a command. I hesitate for a moment, and then shake off the thought.

"Yer right. I might regret it in the mornin'." I give Jasper a sideways smirk and jet off into the woods. He may have the upper hand in most situations, but I'm one fast fucker. A minute later, I can hear his near-silent footfalls behind me. I extend my left arm and clip a moderate-sized pine, slicing through its trunk before sending it toppling in my wake. I spare a backwards glance and, as expected, the fucker dodges it.

I slow my pace, letting him gain on me. When I can feel that he's right on my heels, I faint left and roll right. Jasper flies right past me and lets out a low growl the moment he realizes my trick. Sometimes the best way to lose someone is not using your speed, but using _their_ speed against them. Lesson 162, courtesy of the Major.

"Yer gettin' rusty in your old age," I comment as he doubles back around to meet me.

"As much as I hate to admit it, yer right. I'm losin' my touch."

"So, let me get this straight. Yer a lover not a fighter now?" I joke.

Jasper stops and sits on a tree trunk, looking past me. "Ya know, this lifestyle slows ya down a bit. And I'm not so sure that's a bad thing. We don't have to fight for our meals, for our territory. It definitely has its perks."

"Well, of course ya don't have to fight over meals. No vampire in his right mind would eat what ya eat." He shoots me a dangerous look, but I can tell there's nothing behind it. Poor guy really is domesticated.

"You have to give Edward a break, Pete. He doesn't understand the relationship between mates."

"Bullshit. He doesn't know it first-hand, but he eavesdrops into yer thoughts all day long."

"I'll give ya that, but thinkin' it an' livin' it are two different things."

"Hhmm." I stare off into the distance. His words hit close to home. "Yer tellin' me."

Jasper catches on and opens his mouth to apologize, but I wave him off.

"I still grieve for her, but it's different now. It's manageable. She only enters my mind when a memory is triggered. And even then, it doesn't hurt so much."

Jasper smiles a rueful smile, and I jump up from my perch. "Okay, enough of that talk. Let's go kill somethin'. You up fer another bet?"

"Oh no. I'm not agreein' to anything until I hear terms. I won't make the same mistake twice."

I look around my surroundings, trying to come up with an idea. The prey has to be fast—something carnivorous. Jasper says they taste the best. I'll just take his word on that one.

In the distance, I see a rustle of branches and what looks to be yellow fur or … _hair_? Whatever it is, it's moving fast … very fast.

I take off after it and hear Jasper's stream of curses trailing after me.

"… terms, ya asshole. This doesn't count!"

I ignore him and continue tracking the … whatever or _whoever_ it is.

**Bella's point of view**

"Yes, Ang, I'll be there—_he'll_ be there. Just don't … ja … ah, don't be … _awkward_."

"Whatever. I'll see you and _Peter_ soon."

"Okay, but please don't say his name like that. That kinda falls under the category of 'awkward.'"

"Uh, shouldn't you be leaving?"

"Fuck. Yes! See you there. Meet me in the front lobby."

"'Kay."

I hang up with Angela and catapult out the door and into ol' rusty. The engine roars to life, and I high-tail it—as much as my ancient vehicle can—to work. As I'm walking into the lobby, I see Angela sitting in the waiting area in front of the nurses' station. Just my luck, the Queen is working today. I swear, she plans her schedule according to when I'll be "volunteering."

Ang gets up and starts walking over to me. I send her a series of complicated hand signals for her to hang back. Apparently, she doesn't know sign language, because she skips right up to me with a big shit-eating grin on her face.

A throat clears behind me, drawing my attention.

"Swan, did you bring a tag-along?" Queeny has her usual sneer on that ugly face of hers.

"Um, no," Angela chimes in. "I'm thinking about volunteering and was wondering if I could shadow Miss Swan."

At least one of us is quick on our toes.

"And your name?" Oh, so now she throws on the charm. Angela exchanges introductions with 'Cindy,' who's suddenly all rainbows and unicorns.

"Well, Miss Swan here wouldn't be my … ah ... first choice for you to shadow. Perhaps you could come back another day?"

In a display of solidarity and utter bullshit, Angela wraps her arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to her. "It was Bella here who convinced me to volunteer. She's told me how much she enjoys her time here." Angela beamed.

Cindy snorts before she can recover her false demeanor.

"Ah, very well then. You can follow Miss Swan for the night, but please keep an open mind." Her eyes narrow, and I can almost hear the sound of her teeth grinding during the last few words.

"Right this way, Angela. I'll show you to the Mental Health wing. That's where we'll be today," I explain, loud enough for Cindy to hear.

_She's a maniac, maaa—niac on the..._

"Shit," I whisper under my breath as I scramble to answer my phone. That demented fairy had to go and ruin it all. I silence the ringer and glance back to Cindy to see if she heard. She did all right, and her chubby index finger jabs toward the bold print "No Cell Phones" sign.

"Sorry," I mumble as I flip open the now silent phone. I reprogrammed the ring tone Alice set for herself. Somehow _You're My Best Friend_ by Queen, while a classic, didn't seem to define the relationship. Before I can turn the phone off, the damn thing rings again.

"Uh, it's my Mom … probably serious," I explain to Cindy with a nervous laugh. I head toward the front doors as I answer the phone. Cell service in the hospital is completely unreliable.

"This better be serious," I grumble into the receiver.

"Bella, they're coming for you. Whatever you do, don't leave the hospital," Alice says frantically, her words running together. It's too late. The hospital doors slide open to reveal two vampires—a female and a male. They're looking directly at me, their red eyes boring into my skull. I can smell their sickeningly sweet scent, and it makes my stomach lurch.

The phone slips haphazardly from my grasp, shattering on the linoleum floor.

"Bella?" In the distance, I hear Angela's concerned voice. She sounds so far away.

"Run." It's all I can manage as my legs feel as though they are tethered to the ground.

The female approaches me.

"You will come with us without causing a scene. If you scream or try to run, we'll kill everyone who knows your name." Her beautiful face contorts into a mask of fury. Her hand winds around my upper arm. She glances over my shoulder and flashes a heartless smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**Captivity**

**Bella's Point of View**

_Fuck! Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad._ My mind keeps flashing through hundreds of scenarios. _Are they going to kill me? Change me?_ I remain silent, wrapped inside my own mind and afraid to speak. Besides, I'd rather not know the answers to most of my questions, and I seriously doubt that my kidnappers will vainly tell me their whole diabolical plan. That's only in movies, and this is real. _This is real_, my mind struggles to comprehend.

All the self-defense tips Charlie taught me shuffle through my head. _Don't let them get you into a vehicle. Yell 'fire' at the top of your lungs;_ _no one responds to screams these days._ _Go for the ankle, the solar plexus, the nose, a knee, or the groin._ None of that matters now. My attackers are nearly invulnerable.

We're in the parking lot now, moving so fast I struggle to keep pace. I'm aware that these vampires aren't used to human interaction as I'm pulled along half-hazardly. The female grips my bicep tighter. With each falter I make, I'm afraid she'll rip my arm right out of its socket. They can never pass for human with their unnatural grace and speed. It's something they can't hide, or simply don't feel the need to hide. They are lethal, _virile_. Intimidation pours off of them in sheets. The female's quick-darting ruby eyes are animalistic. I try to look away from them, but they draw me in like a moth to the flame.

The male rushes forward and opens the backseat of a silver Chevrolet Malibu. The vehicle may as well be my coffin. I'm flung in headlong, bouncing off of the seat and ramming head first into the plastic door panel of the opposite door. I Immediately check for blood.

_Oh please, dear God, don't let me be bleeding._

To my extreme relief, I don't feel anything wet, though I do smell the tale-tell odor of blood—the metallic, salty scent. I look around in horror to find its source—a rather large blood stain on the carpeting behind the passenger seat. I choke back my own vomit, clasping my hands tightly over my mouth and rearing back against the backseat. The female is in the driver's seat now. She glances back toward me, enjoying the horror-filled look on my face.

_I won't give her that satisfaction again_, I vow.

The engine starts and the tires squeal, pealing out of the parking lot. I scramble to put on a seat belt, though it feels like a wasted effort. Dusk is falling in Forks, casting an eerie haze over everything. Shadows and light cross over the faces of my captors. The female's skin is darker than the male's—hers has a yellow undertone to it as though she were olive-skinned as a human. Her lips are full and curved upward in a devilish smile. Her eyes are alight with malice.

The male, however, seems very cold—emotionless and almost robotic. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see who's in control here. She's in the driver's seat, both literally and figuratively.

Beyond the sounds of the road and the over-taxed car engine, I hear a vibration. Two angry faces whip in my direction. In a motion too fast for my eyes or brain to comprehend, my purse is snatched from my hands. The crunching and twisting of plastic fills the small space, sending an unsettling chill up my spine. My last life-line is gone.

Darkness is taking over, encroaching on my vision no matter how much I try to push it away. _I have to know where they're taking me. I have to stay alert._ My feet and hands are overtaken by an annoying pins and needles sensation. I thread my fingers together and squeeze, trying to quell the awkward numbness. _Fuck!_ It's not working. My muscles and tendons seem strung tight, pulling and shortening of their own accord. I feel a burning in the pit of my stomach, along with the ache in my chest that I have recently come to accept as a new normal. I struggle to stay upright, fighting the need to curl into a fetal position and let the darkness overtake me.

I can hear the blood rushing through my veins, and I concentrate on its rhythm, trying to slow it. It's no use. My breath comes in short bursts. I feel as though I'm underwater, gasping for air. Even the male eyes me curiously_. Well, I'm as fucking clueless as you are_, I think to myself.

Even if I could talk, what would I say? _Help me? Could you let me out of the car for a breath of fresh air?_ I don't see the point in wasting the little breath I have left on a request that I'm sure will fall on deaf ears.

A little nagging voice in the back of my mind urges me to _'let the darkness take over.' 'It's easier this way,'_ it suggests in a calming tone. I submit to the voice and fade into the darkness. The voice is right, it is easier. I feel my muscles slacken as my pulse falls back into a slow and steady pace.

I breathe a sigh of relief, inhaling the luscious grease-drenched aroma._Burger king? No fucking way. It was just a dream._ Slowly, my senses awaken from their slumber. I hear the constant drip of water and feel the chilled concrete beneath me.

My eyes snap open, and I'm instantly upright. Taking in my surroundings, I can only guess that I'm in some dank basement. The walls are rough cinder block and the ceiling is comprised of support beams, electrical wires, and piping. A single light bulb illuminates the room in a strange green glow. Besides the staircase that extends down into the middle of the room, there are only a few odd boxes strewn about. The sarcastic side of me can't help but think how fucking textbook this seems—being trapped in a basement. _Really, they couldn't have been more original?_

Wait a second, I distinctly smell Burger King. I sniff the air again. Yup, it's a Whopper with mustard and french fries. Tentatively, I rise from the floor and closely examine every shadow as I begin to make my way toward the delicious aroma.

_This is bait, and you're falling for it_, my mind screams.

Well, fuck it. I'm hungry. How pitiful would it be for me to die of starvation? I'd rather go down kicking and screaming.

I spot the bag and notice the delectable grease stain on the side. The crumple of the paper bag in my hands cries out against the stark silence of the room. _Shit! _I clutch my prize to my chest, peering anxiously at the door at the top of the wooden stairs. An inch of light streams through under the door. My heart stutters frantically, waiting for the silhouette of two legs to block that light. I know it will happen. After all, you can't torture a girl with Burger King.

Without taking my eyes off of the door, I reach into my bag and stuff a handful of fries into my mouth, moaning slightly. They're cold and not as salty as I usually like, but right now, they are heaven. I feel them slide down my throat and settle in the pit of my stomach. My stomach acid churns, and I realize I need to pace myself.

I walk back toward the corner of the basement and sit down with my food. It feels much better to have the wall at my back. As quietly as possible, I eat my food, still keeping my eyes trained on the sliver of light from under the door.

"I'm glad you're eating," a voice utters from the shadows.

I nearly shit my pants. As it is, I half-choke on some french fries. I look in the direction of the voice to see a different vampire come out of the shadows. She's smiling, and unlike the dark-haired woman, her smile is pleasant. Her skin is the same perfect shade of fresh snow and her blonde hair falls in ringlets past her shoulders. She's curvier than the other female, and taller too. The only similarity is the color of their eyes—the same startling crimson red.

"Ar—are they keeping you here, too?" My voice is full of gravel.

"In a way, yes." I can tell that there is more of a story here. Admittedly, I'm intrigued, but I'm more interested in getting some of my questions answered.

"Why am I here?"

She sighs and her eyes turn downcast. "Because I led them to you."

I gasp, recoiling from the shock of her words. I've backed myself into a corner and left myself vulnerable to the person I should fear the most. She reaches out to me and a scream erupts from my throat.

An icy hand clamps over my mouth. The vampire looks warily over her shoulder and my eyes follow her line of vision. My scream is cut off in my throat as I realize she's _protecting_ me. A pair of legs appear beyond the basement door, as if out of thin air. I focus on the handle of the door, praying that it won't move. My stomach is in my throat, and I can hear my too-fast pulse pounding in my ears.

My wide eyes shift back and forth between the door and the vampire in front of me. The shadow legs disappear and the vampire sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. I take that as a good sign.

"If that worked, he shouldn't be checking on us for a while."

I'm confused by her statement. "If what worked?"

"It's my gift. I have the gift of subtle suggestion. It doesn't always work, but on him it usually does. It worked for you, as well. I wouldn't dare try it on Maria, though. She can see right through me."

Well, she's awfully forthcoming with information. Maria must be the name of the other female vampire. _Wait, back up a second. She played her mind tricks on me? _It's bad enough being around Edward and his nosy little gift, but now this chick plants thoughts in my head? If they turn me, I better have a goddamned awesome-ass gift that will put everyone else's to shame. _I want to_ _fly, dammit!_

My eyes narrow on her, but I'm careful not to raise my voice. "_What_ did you plant in my head?"

She looks repentant. "I'm sorry. I just wanted you to sleep. I thought it would be better for you. It was the least I can do for bringing you into this."

"Yeah, about that. Why the hell am I here?"

"I'll give you the shortened version for lack of time." She takes a deep breath and eyes me warily. I get the feeling she's about to really piss me off.

"Twenty-two years ago, I made the biggest mistake of this life. I went back to _her_ seeking revenge—no, not revenge, but peace. I was tired of being on the run, of fearing she would come back for us. I wanted solace. I wanted an actual life." _Yeah, okay, I get the picture. If this is the shortened version, God help me. _"I went back to find Maria, vainly thinking that I could destroy her on my own. I was wrong." _Obviously._ "I couldn't smell her or even sense her presence because of _him_—Adolfo. For a rather dim-witted vampire, his gift is remarkable. He can make himself, and a handful of those with him, entirely undetectable. This is why I never saw her coming.

"At first, I was bait, just as you are bait—for _Peter_."

Her red eyes search mine for a reaction. I'm motionless, stunned into silence. _It all makes sense now_, I realize as a sickening feeling swirls in my stomach. They don't want _me_. They want _him_. Which means the beautiful vampire in front of me—the one that Peter assumes is dead—must be _his_ Charlotte.

Angry tears fill my eyes and brim over the edge. Again, she reaches toward me in what I know is meant as a comforting gesture, but again, I recoil from her touch.

"Don't worry. Peter's smart, and he has Jasper with him. I know they'll come up with a solution."

"Why am I _here_?" I bite out through clenched teeth. She stares at me, cocking her head to the side with the same damned expression that I've seen on Peter's face time and time again.

My fingers lace through my hair, threatening to pull it out at the roots in need for a release. Rage. Jealousy. Loss. They all weigh down on me.

"You are here because Maria wants Peter for the army she is rebuilding." Charlotte takes a step back.

"I know _that_. I mean why am_ I_ here if she has _you_?" I sneer. Her face immediately contorts to a visage of pain.

"Because you're his mate." Her face crumples as if she's crying, but no tears fall from her eyes.

"_Mate_? Like some animal? What the hell does that mean? Am I some lab experiment? Impregnate the human with your demon spawn? 'Cause that would explain a lot." I stare her down, waiting for an explanation that makes fucking sense.

"He hasn't explained to you what it means to be mates?"

"No," I answer childishly, folding my arms across my chest.

"You are two halves to a whole. You feel. He feels. You are destined to be together—to have a love unrivaled by any other." Her voice gets more hysterical as she continues her rant. Looking at her, I realize that I probably sound just as crazy. Nevertheless, her words are sobering. They mirror the sentiment of Peter's last conversation with me.

"So—so the pull in my chest …" I place my hands over my heart "… the ache when he's not there. That's what it means to be _mates_?"

She only nods her head, and then hides her face behind her hands. Reality hits, and now I feel like the monster. I have what she wants—has always wanted—and also _thought_ she had.

"I'm sorry, Charlotte," I mumble pitifully. "I—I wasn't thinking."

"Peter told you about me?" She seems shocked.

"Just last night, in fact. He told me his history—the abbreviated version." I try a tentative smile and receive a small one in return.

"That sounds like Peter."

"So, do you know what they're planning on doing to me?" I ask to change the subject. I can't help it. Jealousy is a bitch.

"You are bait to lure Peter here. Once they have him, I'm not sure what they will do to you. Maria has never permitted mated couples in her army, as she has told me countless times." She sneers.

"So either way, I guess I'm dead. _Great_."

"No, don't think like that …"she trails off, and I understand the question in her eyes.

"Bella."

"Bella." She smiles. "I like it. It suits you." She admits with a pained half-smile. "I'm confident that we can get you out of here."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Oh, I think I do." She smirks knowingly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Ghosts from the Past **

**Peter's Point of View **

Damned thing's leading me on a wild goose chase. Each time I get close, it darts off to the side. It's smart. I'll give it that.

"Peter, stop," Jasper calls from behind me. I immediately stop and turn toward him. His eyes are wide as if in surprise, but his jaw is set firm. He's picking up on something.

I turn back toward the direction of the animal, only to be knocked on my ass by the vision before me. It's Charlotte, cloaked in a white dress—beams of sunlight streaming in through her blonde hair, making her look like an angel in a golden, glowing aura. She's even more breathtaking than my memory of her. I try to speak, but words get caught in my throat. She's looking at me with a strained expression on her face. Confusion sets in.

Hesitantly, I pull my eyes away from her to look for some type of explanation from Jasper, but he looks just as dumbstruck as I am.

"Charlotte?" Jasper questions.

"I don't have time to explain much, but please listen to what I have to say." She pauses, her face crumpling up for a moment, and the next, seemingly wiped of all emotion. "Maria's going to take your mate."

Rage builds within me, an erratic useless emotion with nowhere to release it. Red flames lick at the corners of my vision, causing the images before me to waver like the pavement on a hot summer day. Muscles coil on their own accord. A low rumble builds in my chest, threatening to be released from its cage. Slowly, a calmness begins to flow through me, diluting the red-tinged rage and quieting the monster_. _

_Jasper_.

For a moment, I'm irritated with him for denying me my emotions, but I understand his reasoning.  
><em>Not now. Now, I need a clear head. I'll save the rage. I'll save it <em>all_ for Maria_.

Once I regain myself, Charlotte continues. Still, she eyes me warily. "I can tell you where she is taking her, but you have to think things through. If you make any rash decisions … she'll kill her."

The rage-filled monster begins to take over again. So many questions fill my head, but my anger makes it impossible to maintain a single train of thought. Once again, Jasper's talent begins to work its magic on me, deadening my flared nerve endings—quelling the beast.

"The cabin is in West Fork, to the northwest of town. Whatever you do, don't follow me there. They'll expect that. Plan another route. I'll do my best to protect your mate until you can figure something out." Her eyes crinkle at the edges as she studies my face. She flashes to my side, her expression timid. Slowly, she reaches a hesitant hand to my face to stroke my jaw line.

It's a gesture she had always used when I was angry—her simple way of telling me to relax. No words necessary. The angry tick of my jaw had always been my giveaway.

Her touch, though warm and inviting, doesn't ease my tension.

My mental turmoil has frozen me in place like the stone figure that I am. Jasper may be able to control my emotions, but my thoughts lash at my psyche, imagining the worse possible outcome. I don't even react when Charlotte disappears into the forest. A large part of me is still trying to rationalize what's just happened. _I've just seen a ghost._ The thought plays over and over again in my head. Though it sounds far-fetched, it makes the most sense.

_She was gone. There had been no trace for years. I had searched to the ends of the Earth for her, and she was _gone_._

I just healed from the loss of her, only to have the gaping hole rip back open_._ I am both the betrayed and the betrayer, pining over lost time with Charlotte while feeling my own unfaithfulness toward Bella.

_Bella._ The ache in my chest flares to life, snapping me back to the grim reality. Bella's in danger. _Maria_ has her. All the rage that I had pushed aside comes back like a tidal wave, engulfing me.  
>A roar erupts from my chest, shaking the very ground where we stand. Trees are splintered and uprooted in my tirade. I'm not sure how long it takes for Jasper to get my emotions in check, but the sky has turned from a dusky blue to a deep indigo.<p>

My wrath has come at a price. There is a chorus of angry growls at the boundary line, and Jasper's mate is here, too. She stares at me with wide doe eyes as if I just lost my puppy.

"Guess yer not so all-seeing, huh?" I sneer, earning a warning rumble from Jasper and a small whimper from Alice.

"I didn't see until the last minute, Peter. I tried to warn Bella, but it was too late. They were already there." The tone of her voice tells me she's repentant, and I have to remind myself that she seems to care for Bella too in her own strange way. Even more sobering is the thought that I _need_ Alice right now.

"Wait, you said 'they.' How many does Maria have with her?"

"One other vampire besides Charlotte. A male."  
>"Tell me everythin' you've seen." It's not a question, but a command.<p>

"They're in some cabin, but I'm not sure where it is. I only get bits and pieces of the scenery around the house, and it's not enough to identify its location. Bella's being kept in the basement."

"Can ya see the outcome of Jasper's plans?"

She nods, her mouth forming a small line. "So far, it doesn't look good." Her small voice quavers with emotion.

"Do we have a time frame?"

Alice shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. Maria is being very careful with her plans. It's like she knows I'm watching her."

"Oh, I'm sure sheknows yer watchin' her. She'll try to throw ya off, too." Something dawns on me. "Wait a minute. How do _you_ know Maria?" I know how Alice's gift works. She sees the future of those she's looking for. Of course, I'm sure Jasper's told her about Maria, but Alice needs first-hand knowledge of someone to know specifics.

A moment of panic flashes across Alice's face. Jasper picks up on it, too, and turns toward her.

"You've come into contact with Maria before?" Jasper asks, his tone skeptical.

Alice swallows hard and her eyes go wide. "It was right after we met. She was tracking us somehow, but I managed to keep us one step ahead. It was because of Maria that I put us on a fast course to the Cullens. I had already seen it was the life that we were supposed to lead, but I also knew that joining a coven would offer us more protection. I haven't seen her since Carlisle and Esme took us in." Alice looks up at Jasper imploringly.

The bastard just sighs with a little shake of his head and squeezes her tighter. _Sickening._

"All right. Never mind that. We need a plan that'll work."

We head back to the Cullen house and get Hulk Smash in on the planning. Emmett's always more than eager to join in on a fight. His sheer size alone gives us an advantage. Jasper proceeds to tell us what he's come up with, while Alice describes how all of those plans will fail. We need to rule out what doesn't work in order to find what can work. What _will_ work. What _has_ to work.

Carlisle calls Jasper in the middle of our discussion to inform us that the wolves are pissed. They know that vamps took Bella, and are demanding that we give them all the information we have. Edward volunteers to bring the dogs up to date. At least it gets him out of the house for a while. Rose is locked in her room, refusing to get involved. Esme's fluttering around with a 'free hugs' sign around her neck, trying to comfort her distraught family. Even Carlisle's losing his shit, beating himself up over the fact that Bella was taken right under his fucking nose. This is turning into a shit storm, reminding me why I choose to work alone. For every person you add, it just gets that more complicated.

Complications like Bella's _best_ friend being quick to make accusations. Complications like Bella's father being the police chief. Complications like Chief Swan, enraged, about to knock the newly-replaced front door clean off its hinges.

Esme calmly walks to the front door and reaches for the doorknob, scanning the room behind her with a "be good" look before opening the front door to the red-faced Chief of Police. Without waiting for an invitation, the chief shoulders past Esme and enters the living room. He looks at each of us until his eyes settle on me.

"Where is she?" It's an accusation. Chief Swan's left eye is twitching and the vein on his forehead is bulging.

Before I can answer, Emse beats me to the punch. "She is not here, Chief Swan, but we are very concerned for her. Just now, we were organizing a search party. Is there anything more that we can do?" Esme offers, but it seems as though the chief hasn't heard a word she's said. He's shuffling around the room, quick eyes darting to every visible surface and person.

"How many levels are this house?" He asks no one in particular.

"Three, not including the basement," Esme answers.

"Then I'll start in the basement and work my way up." As he speaks, he's already searching for the basement door. Esme simply gestures to it and he b-lines toward it.

"Peter, come with me. I'd like to talk to you." He doesn't even turn to look at me, but the grinding of his teeth is audible across the small space.

In the many years I have walked this earth as a vampire, I have never been more intimidated by a human. Well, apart from this human's daughter, at least.

I have to put aside my own irritation over the interruption of our planning session to address Chief Swan's concerns. With a might bit of hesitation, I join him in front of the basement door. He looks me over, unabashedly sizing me up. I try to turn my head to cast a shadow over my eyes, but I hear his sharp intake of breath as notices them.

He opens the door and gestures for me to enter first, closing the door behind us. This is where his tirade of questions begins.

"How long have you known my daughter?" He asks, flicking on his flashlight to search the basement. Luckily, the furnishings are fairly spartan, so there aren't too many nooks and crannies to search.

"For only a week."

"What's the nature of your relationship with her?"

"I know 'er from work. We've only just met, but I'd consider 'er a friend."

"When's the last time you saw her?"

"At my last shift at work, two days ago." I make sure I don't miss a beat. He'll pick up on that. It's no use though. I know _Jacob's_ already gotten to him. Chief Swan pauses, looking at me intently.

"Don't lie to me, Peter. Tell me again. What's the nature of your relationship with _my_ daughter?"

I don't miss the ownership in his question. I get the feeling he's trying to maintain police protocol but would rather just beat the answers out of me. The man's downright menacing. It's a quality that I admire. If only I can get him to understand that we're on the same side here.

"You have to believe me when I say that I would never hurt Bella. I have only known her for a short period of time, but I … _care_ for her deeply." With much restraint, I let some of the emotion show through. It seems that the chief picks up on it. He nods his head solemnly.

Sliding down to the sofa, Chief Swan seems to crumble before me. "I just can't make sense of this. Why would they take her?" He holds his head in his hands, noticeably shaking with pent up anger and the same sense of helplessness that I feel.

I wish I could tell him where to direct his anger, but I'd be sending him on a suicide mission for sure. With hands clenched into fists and my jaw wound tight, I offer him the only solace I am able to.

"We'll get 'er back. Be sure of that." I only hope it's not an empty promise.

He looks up to me, studying my expression with wonder for a long minute. Then, with a curt nod, he stands, making his way to the staircase.

He turns back toward me. "Don't give me any reason to come back here, Peter."

"Yes, sir."

He continues up the stairs, and after a few words with Esme, I hear the front door shut.

_Well, that went better than I thought it would._

Without wasting another moment, I return to the living room and to our planning session. I'm glad to see that discussions have continued in my absence. Jasper is drawing sketches on a sheet of paper, while Emmett and Alice eagerly look on.

In the space of a few minutes, several things happen. Alice shrieks, falling to the floor in a heap with a vacant look in her eyes. Jasper immediately attends to her, but his attention is momentarily diverted as Edward bursts through the door. Edward smugly informs us that the wolves have caught the scent of an unfamiliar vampire and are tracking it, hoping that it will lead them to Bella. The next moment, his shit-eating grin morphs into slack-jawed astonishment.

"Fuckin' hell," Jasper exclaims. He flips out his cell phone. "Carlisle, you have to stop those damned wolves before they ruin everythin'. They're interferin' with Alice's visions _and_ they're trackin' the wrong damned vampire." He slams the phone shut with another stream of expletives.

"No, wait. It's perfect." Everything snaps into place. "The wolves are just the distraction we need. They'll take the most direct route, I'm sure. We'll wait until Maria and 'er pet are engaged, and we'll end 'em."

My plan is met with immediate hesitation.

"We can't go in there blind, Pete. It's too dangerous. Besides, a direct attack from the wolves will most likely cause them casualties."

"And …" Since when did he care about the wolves?

"And it's not their fight to fight. They shouldn't be the ones to take the brunt of the impact."

Before he can even finish, I'm shaking my head. I can't believe I'm talking to the same man who had led me into battle on numerous occasions—the same devious mind who had planned the most sinister of diversions to give his troops the upper hand.

"Do you honestly think that Maria will be expectin' a pack of overgrown mutts to come knockin' at 'er door? As far as we know, there's only two of 'em against a much larger number of wolves. They have both the element of surprise _and_ the numbers necessary to execute an effective attack."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Emmett punches his fist into his open hand, bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other. I love this guy's enthusiasm.

_At least that's one vote in my favor._

Jasper turns to Alice, who's still crumpled on the floor. She stares at him sadly and shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, Pete, but it's too risky. We can't see the outcome."

"So, what? You only do things if she gives ya the go ahead?" I jab my finger in Alice's direction, causing her to shrink back. "Not knowin' the future never stopped ya before."

Jasper's now pacing the living room, his chin perched on his left hand and his eyes downcast.

"Oh, gawd! You can't tell me you're going to go through with this, Jasper," Edward declares with an exasperated eye roll, giving me the confirmation that I'm looking for.

_Jasper's game._

"Peter's right. We have the element of surprise, Edward, and that's somethin' we can't pass up. Besides, I'm not even sure whether or not Carlisle will be able to get a hold of the wolves to halt their attack." Jasper coddles Edward like a child, but then again, I don't expect Edward's fairy ass to understand the finer points of battle tactics.

Out of nowhere, Edward bursts out laughing at some inside joke. "… I never thought of that, but your mental image of that massive wolf delicately clutching a tiny cell phone between his teeth is riotous!" Edward slaps a limp-wristed hand on his thigh as he lets out a belly laugh.

My teeth grind together as I glare at the pansy-ass excuse for a predator in front of me.

"We're leavin'. Now." Immediately, I fly into motion. "Jasper, call Carlisle and see if he got through to the wolves. If he did, let 'em know that the attack is back on and we'll be joinin' the fray soon."

He nods and pulls out his cell phone.

"Oh, and one other thing." I wait until I feel all of the eyes in the room on me. "Maria's mine." 


	15. Chapter 15

**Blind Faith **

**Bella's point of view**

"So, are you going to let me in on your plan, or not?" I doubt I'll be able to help, but I'd at least like to know how this shit is going down.

She crooks a finger, requesting I come closer. Her eyes turn up as she peers at the ceiling, placing a finger over pursed lips. Her head whips back toward me, the motion causing her ringlets to bounce. I wonder how Peter can find anything appealing about me after spending a century with _her_. She's all pouty lips, curvy hips, and an angel's face. I wouldn't be surprised if she sprouted wings and took flight, she's so damned perfect.

_Perfect but deadly._

I can't help my hesitance. After all, Charlotte isn't a veggie vamp. Not to mention, I have what she wants most of all. _Peter_. How can I be sure that her plan isn't to just kill me, claim Maria did it, and take off with Peter? Sure, it seems slightly out of character for the person that I've only known for little more than a half hour, but maybe she's deceiving me.

How ironic is it that the vampire I'm forced to place my trust in happens to be _the other woman_? Still, I'm a nosy bitch, so I _need_ to know the plan. I lean closer to the beautiful, red-eyed creature before me, ignoring the alarms bells ringing in my head. Charlotte smells like sunflowers and honey, and unlike a _Monet_, she's more lovely the closer you get. _Bitch_. I probably look and smell like someone dunked me in a chicken fryer.

"When I hear Peter approaching, I'll try to channel into his thoughts. My goal is to be able to guide him to where he'll need to be, hopefully giving him the advantage he needs to overcome Maria and Adolfo."

The corner of her mouth lifts in a satisfied smirk as my mind sifts through her words. _Charlotte will place suggestions into Peter's thoughts._ Out of what she's told me, it's the one thing I fixate on. _ Is this something she's done before? _The notion is unsettling, to say the least. What other thoughts can she suggest to him? Will they sway his thinking? His actions? His feelings?

Maybe I'm completely overthinking this. Hell, maybe I'm overthinking _everything_. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and stay out of the way and let the _superior beings_ do their thing.

"Charlotte? Is there any way you could get me some water?" I need to be alone for a minute. Not to mention, I'd really like some water. I mean, I'm not trying to be a picky hostage, but I'm pretty sure my Whopper and fries came with a drink.

She glances at the door and nods, vanishing in a blur of motion. For a split second, light from the first story of the … _place_ we're in streams into the basement, illuminating the dingy room in a flood of light. My only indication that Charlotte is carrying out my request is the faint sound of water flowing through the pipes overhead. Another moment of bright light and Charlotte reappears by my side, a glass of tap water extended toward me. _So much for some time to myself._

Taking the glass from her, I put on my best fake smile and take a sip. My eyes close, feeling the moisture slide down my throat, washing away the dry, sandpaper feeling. Slowly, I take small sips, noting the strange looks of fascination and revulsion that pass across Charlotte's face.

"Does it really taste that good? I heard water doesn't have a taste." She's leaning into me again, and I can't help but press myself tightly against the wall at my back.

I try to think of the best way to explain the taste of water, but give up. "It's not the _taste_ … but more the quench of a thirst." I laugh at my own little joke. "That should be easy for you to understand."

She chuckles in response, but her eyes are wary. I'm tempted to ask her how long it's been since she's fed, but I don't know if it would be rude of me.

"Are you … _thirsty,_ too?" So I'm not much for social mores.

"No, I'm fine. I fed three days ago," she replies, taking a step away from me. She wraps her arms around herself and turns her back toward me.

"Is it _difficult_ … being around me, I mean?"

She looks over her shoulder to regard me. Her face is full of so much emotion. "Yes and no," she responds, forcing a small smile. It makes her look even more pitiful. Even though I'm not a 'hugger,' I have the urge to get up and give this vampire a squeeze.

I realize that my question is an all-encompassing one. _Of course_ it's difficult for her to be around me. I'm the only person standing in the way of her happiness. Hell, if the only thing standing in the way of my _happily ever after_ is a cheeseburger, I'd just eat the damned cheeseburger and get on with my life. Only in this scenario, _I'm the cheeseburger._

"The blood, I mean." _Wow, Bella. It's like asking an addict if he wants to use. Just put a sprig of parsley in your mouth and slit your wrist._

She turns toward me, drawing me up short. Her crimson gaze is startling against the pallor of her skin. Her eyes, though they belie her deadly nature, are captivating—_hypnotizing_. It's a long moment before I'm able to regain my thoughts.

"You do smell … _nice_. Quite nice. I haven't had the freedom to pick my meals in quite some time." She pauses, looking away. "Needless to say, feeding from you would be like filet mignon compared to ground chuck." She looks at me over her shoulder, gauging my reaction. I'm sure she can hear the increasing pace of my heart, but I try to keep my face unaffected by her words. "As I said before, I'm not hungry. Besides, I don't think I could drain you even if I wanted to. It would hurt Peter too much. He'd never forgive me."

So the only reason I'm alive right now is because my death would upset Peter. I feel more like a family pet than a so-called mate.

"Well, it's nice to know you … ah … _care_." So yeah, a little sarcasm slips in, but I hope she doesn't notice. I mean, it's not like I want us to be best buds. Still, I'm beginning to think that there is a major flaw with all female vampires. So far, they all seem to lack the social skills necessary to carry on a normal conversation. Of course, I include Edward in this statement, too. We all know it isn't his fault. He's just a female stuck in a very effeminate male's body.

I try to smooth down my frazzled hair, noting the oily texture of my scalp. _Yup, just like a chicken fryer._ _Wait a second._

"Um, how long was I asleep, Charlotte?"

"Thirteen hours and twenty three minutes," she responds automatically.

"Oh, shit! Charlie! He's going to be looking for me!"

There'll be search parties all over the woods, and if they find us—_oh please, don't let them find us!_ My brain snaps into hyper-mode.

"How did you find me?" My eyes narrow on Charlotte. Here, all this time, I've been gabbing away when I should be asking _real _questions.

"_I _didn't find you. Maria did."

"How?"

Charlotte swallows, an action that I'm beginning to realize as the sign that she's about to go into a long story.

"The abbreviated version, _please_," I urge.

Charlotte nods. "Maria sees relationships between people. When I came to find her, twenty-two years ago, she left me alive hoping that I would be a direct link to Peter. Occasionally, she would get a glimpse of his … _signature_ through our relationship, but it would fizzle out before she could track it. Because I wasn't his _mate_, my bond with him was too weak to track." Her voice grows very faint as her eyes turn toward the floor. With a small shake, she continues. "Two months ago, he fell completely off the radar. He became a black hole. I could feel it—the nothingness. Our bond was severed. I had feared the worse, thinking he was dead. My only comfort was that I would soon follow him. Maria would no longer need me if Peter was gone.

"I was ready for my fate, and it was because of my willingness to die that Maria kept me alive. Then, two weeks ago, Peter's signature came back to life, glowing like a beacon in the dark. Maria described the intensity of the lights—both yours and Peter's—as 'the most unique bond she had ever seen in her existence.' I was both relieved and devastated.

"We made a hasty turn north to find that Peter was residing with the Cullens. Maria had come across them before—well, _one_ of them. She knew there was no way that she could snatch Peter from under their noses—what, with their psychic and mind reader and, of course, Jasper too. So, she devised a plan to capture you. You are the bait. Peter is the prize."

"But doesn't she know that Jasper will come with him, and possibly the other Cullen's too?"

"That's the part I don't understand. Maria has to have thought of that. She never allows for room for error, but she hasn't given me any hints as to what she's planning."

I can feel the sense of dread, sinking into my thoughts—my very _bones—permeating_. The ache in my chest suddenly feels like a gaping hole, an emptiness. _I'm not getting out of this alive._

My attention is drawn away from my plummeting thoughts by Charlotte's growl. It's a low rumbling sound. It doesn't seem right coming from the outwardly timid soul.

"Nomads," she hisses in explanation.

Bile rises in my throat as my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach.

"How many?" I whisper, knowing the answer. _Enough to make all the difference._

"Four."

I feel my eyebrows draw together. _That doesn't seem right. Four to the Cullens' eight_. No matter how I work the math, the numbers don't add up in Maria's favor.

I'm pulled from my contemplations by the basement door opening. Six vampires slowly descend the staircase. Charlotte blurs, reappearing in a protective crouch before me. A slow hiss escapes her lips. Maria, of course, takes point. She wears a callous smirk on her face, the expression causing her left cheek to dimple. For a brief moment, I consider how lovely she could be if she wasn't such a venomous bitch. She seems to take note of Charlotte's reaction.

"I had hoped you would have grown a backbone and at least roughed her up a bit. However, you've shown yourself as the spineless excuse for a vampire that I knew you to be. Had you shown a backbone those many years ago, I would not have decided to kill you, and you would still have your lover by your side. Instead, you're defending your lover's mate and will die doing just that. How pitiful," she taunts, stopping right in front of Charlotte.

Bending down, she places her mocking face only inches away from Charlotte's. As Maria gloats, Charlotte cowers under the intensity of her glare.

Hovering next to her is the indifferent Adolfo. He seems nothing more than an extension of Maria, wound so tightly to her that I'm not sure there are any thoughts in his head that aren't hers.  
>The vampire to the left of Adolfo is one of the new arrivals. He's about six feet tall with closely shorn, blond hair. Though undoubtedly beautiful, his features are rough and angular—<em>vicious.<em> His head is cocked to the side as he regards me, completely ignoring Charlotte and Maria's interchange. A small knowing smile spreads across his face. I draw my legs to my chest, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. I can't shake the feeling that he can somehow see into the depths of my soul, taking the little hope I have left and snuffing it out. He's probably wondering why a _human_ is worth all this trouble.

A feline hiss causes my attention flicker to the red lion's mane to his left. The feline's claws dig into the blond male's shoulder as she eyes me with open hostility, her teeth bared. Her eyes are narrowed to little more than slits, making her appear even more catlike. Her skin is the same shade of pale ivory that I've become accustomed to, though I can see a faint pattern of pale freckles speckling the bridge of her nose and across her cheekbones.

"All this trouble over _that_?" The redhead jabs a claw in my direction, disdain pouring off her. Her voice is a tinkling soprano, a voice you would expect to hear from a five-year-old girl. It sounds absolutely absurd coming from the lioness before me.

The platinum blonde to the redhead's left seems startled by the redhead's outburst. I get the feeling that she doesn't want to be here. Her eyes are different, too. They aren't a startling red or even a deep crimson, but more of an orange-toned amber. They dart around her surroundings as if she's looking for an exit. _Well, the only way to get out of here is the way you came in. Trust me, I've looked._

No matter how hard I try to envision the woman before me as a fighter, I can't. She's too thin—with high, pronounced cheekbones and a narrow, pointed chin.

The last vampire to enter the room is much different from the rest. His skin is a much deeper olive-tone than even Maria's. His eyes, unlike the woman to his right, are a deep burgundy like the rest of them. His arm wraps protectively around the thin blonde standing next to him. She seems to relax minutely with his touch. He certainly has an air about him. He seems self-assured—dignified.  
>I'm not sure why Maria's brought them down here. To intimidate me? To piss off Charlotte?<p>

"You didn't think I would come to this battle empty-handed, did you?" She pauses to laugh. "I knew you would stay down here to protect your lover's mate, so I brought you something to keep you company. Laurent?" Maria turns to the olive-toned vampire, who disappears, only to return a moment later with something in his hands. It's large, but I can't tell what it is. The rest of the vampires climb back up the steps as Laurent tosses whatever he's holding down the stairs. It lands with a thud on the ground. Charlotte hisses in response, reacting to whatever it is.

A moment later, the smell hits me—_blood_, and lots of it. The metallic scent assaults me, churning my stomach. Charlotte rises from her crouch and slowly walks over to the dead body, kneeling down in front of it. She disappears behind a stack of boxes, and I get the feeling that I'd rather not see what's about to happen. The next moment, I hear a sickening crack followed by a muffled growl.

From the sound of the moans and grunts Charlotte's making, this must be filet mignon and not the ground chuck she's used to. That thought strikes a chord deep within me as everything snaps into place.

_Maria's a sick, twisted bitch._ Charlotte's now indulging in something she's been forbidden to have for twenty-two years—something that currently flows through _my veins_. In her current state of blood-lust, will she be able to stop herself from … from _killing_ me? I can barely force myself to finish the thought.

Panic is setting in. The sound of my own frantic heartbeat pounds in my ears, and the smell—_the_ _smell_ _of the_ _blood_—is making my stomach lurch. I can feel the heat of my breath coming in short bursts as a single bead of sweat drips down my forehead. No matter how hard I try not to look at the twitching feet that poke out from behind the stacks of boxes, my vision remains trained on them. My senses are overwhelmed, taking in too much information for my brain to comprehend.  
>Beyond it, though, is something else—something <em>important<em>. Angry voices from above and … and wailing. No, howling. The sounds of several howls pierce the laden air.

_The wolves. They're here._ It's the only thing I focus on, trying to pull myself out of the panic-stricken state that threatens to pull me under. There's another pull, stronger than the fear that's plaguing my mind.

"Peter." It comes out as a whispered prayer.


	16. Chapter 16

******All chapters up until this point have been beta'd for your reading pleasure by my best bud, Raindropsoup.**

* * *

><p><strong>Worse for Wear<strong>

**Bella's point of view**

Charlotte's head snaps up at the mention of his name. She is truly a vision to behold. Blood, the color of wine, runs down her chin. Her eyes are coal black with a thin ring of bright crimson around the edge.

She disappears only to rematerialize by my side with a gust of cool wind, startling the hell out of me. I scramble away from her, misjudging my distance from the wall and thumping my head against it. Charlotte hisses and draws closer still, her blonde ringlets whipping around her blood-stained face. Her eyes have a hypnotic quality, pulling you under their spell. I'm in a state of stunned silence as her hands clamp down on my shoulders. The cold hardness of her grip feels like metal gauntlets weighing me down.

I scream as loud as I can, thrashing about in an attempt to break free from her grasp. My head is now pounding, the pain amplified by my own screams. Her grip only tightens as I try to break free. I see her eyes drop from mine and focus on the junction of my neck and my shoulder. Charlotte seems lost in a trance as she stares at the veins beneath my skin.

I screw my eyes shut, not wanting to see my own demise. Triumphant growls have now replaced my frantic screams. All-consuming pain pierces each of my shoulders. Flesh is ripped from my body with searing intensity. My eyes spring open reflexively to survey the damage. Ragged cuts have torn through my skin, exposing the muscle and tendons beneath. Bright red blood slowly trickles from my open wounds, staining my torn smock. _I'm going to have to replace this_.

I hear snaps and growls around me and realize there's someone else still in the room. I look up and am stunned by what I see. There's a full on battle raging right in front of me. Charlotte is a blur of white and gold, twirling and folding into a large reddish-brown blur. With a sinking feeling, I realize the blur looks familiar.

_I have to do something._

Taking a deep breath, I clamp a hand over my left shoulder, crying out in pain from the bitter sting. The saltiness of my skin burns my exposed flesh. _Maybe I should have skipped the french fries_.

Fighting through the pain, I apply pressure to try to stop the bleeding. It's no use. The blood keeps on coming, sliding through my fingers and making it impossible for me to maintain my grip.

My only other option is to get as far from them as quickly as possible. The bleeding human needs to get away from the blood-thirsty vampire and the raging werewolf.

Painstakingly, I rise from my position on the floor, bearing as little weight as possible on my injured arms. I never take my eyes off of the two forms in front of me as I slowly slide up to wall to a standing position. Now upright, I try to put as much distance as possible between myself and the dueling supernatural creatures. My foot slips on something wet and my arms instinctively fly out to brace myself. _Son-of-a-mother-fucking-bitch that hurts!_ I look down and realize the puddle I slipped in isn't water, but blood—_my blood_. Suddenly, I feel light-headed. _Maybe standing isn't such a good idea._

Charlotte howls, causing me to flinch. A chunk of white is thrown from the fray, bouncing on the concrete floor to land at my feet—startling white against the puddle of deep crimson. To my own disgust, I realize it's half of a palm with two twitching fingers attached. Bile rises in my throat, and I have to suppress the urge to vomit.

On shaky knees, I brace myself against the wall.

"Charlotte. Jake. This needs to stop!" I can barely hear myself speak above the commotion in the room. Taking in as much air as possible into my lungs, I try again. "_Stop fighting_, both of you!"

Jake and Charlotte both stagger backwards, each snarling and hissing at the other. Jake's hair is still bristled, and he's snapping at the air between him and Charlotte. Charlotte, meanwhile, is bouncing lithely from one foot to the other, maintaining a low crouch. I might only have a moment to say this before they go back to trying to kill each other.

"Jake, Charlotte wasn't going to hurt me. She's a friend." So I fudge it a little_._ "And Charlotte, the wolves are my friends, too. They're here to help. You're both on the same team. So get out there and kick some bad vampire ass."

They both look at me in disbelief, still crouched in defensive poses. "Go. Shoo." I gesture with my head toward the staircase, now having the sense to keep my arms firmly at my sides.

Jake starts making a slow circle around Charlotte, keeping his head lowered and teeth bared. I sigh and roll my eyes. _Men. They never listen._ With a low, perpetual rumble in his chest, he bucks his head toward Charlotte. She slides her left foot backwards, never taking her eyes off Jake.

Jake takes a step closer, maintaining a two-foot distance between him and Charlotte. I realize that he's taking my advice, but being cautious about it. Charlotte's gaze flickers to mine with an apology in her eyes. I give her a nod—my acceptance—and she disappears into the bright light at the top of the steps. Jake pauses at the foot of the stairs and looks back toward me with a whimper.

"I'll be okay." I try to assure him, but the truth is that I can't even convince myself. He bows his massive head and then vanishes up the stairs.

Now alone, I collapse on the ground, cradling my arms in my lap. I feel weak from the loss of blood. My head is throbbing, and I can no longer feel my arms. _All of which is_ _probably not a good sign._

_Maybe I'll just rest my eyes for a bit. _I slowly let myself slide down the wall until my head is resting on the ground.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to decipher the sounds above me. There are crashing and keening noises, growls and snarls, and words spoken too fast for me to comprehend.

Silent tears roll down my cheeks. I feel completely helpless, trapped by my own fragile humanity while my friends are likely dying in my place. Jake, Sam, Paul, Embry, Seth—all of them fighting a battle that has nothing to do with them. A small, painful smile finds its way to my lips as I hear their counter-argument in my head. Words I've heard them speak so many times.

_Any excuse is a good excuse to kill a vampire._

They live for the thrill. All I can do is hope they are strong enough to face these vampires.  
><em>The numbers don't add up. Maria has to have an ace up her sleeve.<em>

I feel my mind shutting down on itself. Errantly, I wonder whether it's shock setting in or Charlotte using her little suggestions. I don't want to sleep. I don't want to let myself succumb to the pain.  
>I try to concentrate on the pull in my chest—the only light in the darkness that's fallen around me. Feeling the pull strengthening still, I hold on to what little hope I have left.<br>I close my eyes and wait.

**Peter's point of view**

"Carlisle's on his way. He'll follow the wolves' scent," Jasper informs us after hanging up his cell phone.

"Good. Let's move out." I immediately sense their hesitation, all except for Emmett. He's practically chomping at the bit. Still, he has to ask permission from his harpy of a mate. In fact, she's upstairs trying to talk him out of it right now. She doesn't even have the decency to lower her voice as she explains how my _human_ _isn't worth the trouble_. Fucking bitch.

"Fuck this. I'm leavin'. I'm done pussy-footin' around while Maria does who knows what to Bella and Charlotte." Without a passing glance, I make my exit, letting the ache of my dead heart guide me on my way.

I already feel a measure of relief just getting out of there. Finally, I'm able to _do_ something rather than just talk about it.

The forest blurs green and brown around me. My vision tunnels as I'm driven forward by the pull in my chest, focusing only on closing the distance as quickly as possible. Bella. I try to focus every ounce of my being on bridging the distance between us, but it's no use. Millions of thoughts rage through my brain—some hopeful, some bleak. I have no idea what I'll find when I arrive at my destination.

Maria never underestimates her enemy. I expect she's left nothing to chance. Of course, I doubt she knows about the existence of the wolves. Every vampire knows of the lycanthropes, though few have ever come across one. They are nearly unheard of in the Americas, as they were hunted almost to extinction long ago. The wolves that reside here are entirely different creatures from true werewolves. Maria won't know what hit her. I can only hope that the surprise and extra numbers will tip the scales in our favor.

Maria must die—she _will_ die—and those who stand with her will suffer the same fate.

I'm relieved to hear the footfalls of several vampires behind me. Edward is now right on my heels, followed by Jasper, Alice, and Esme, with Emmett bringing up the rear. You'd never guess Edward's lanky, flailing arms and legs could propel him like they do, but he's one fast fucker.

"The wolves are there," Edward announces.

"What's happening, Edward?" As much as I hate to admit it, I'm glad Edward's here. His insight into the shared thoughts of the wolves gives us a great advantage.

"There are three vampires … no, four. The wolves have split up in groups of two. Jake's gone to find Bella. _OMG!_" Edward inhales in shock. "Bella's in the basement with another vampire …"

"Charlotte." I sigh in relief, but am cut short by a stabbing pain in my chest. A burning, piercing pain nearly doubles me over.

"Shit," Jasper curses under his breath.

"—no, she's _hurting_ her. Oh my God," Edward cries. "There's blood everywhere!"

A vicious growl tears from my throat, and I propel myself forward. I can feel her _pain_. Her _fear_. Venom pools in my mouth. Rage, stronger than anything I've ever felt, runs through me. I can't shake away the image of Bella's blood running down Charlotte's jaw, her crimson eyes victorious.

_She wouldn't dare … would she?_

"Edward, that's enough. Just let us know how many we're up against and where they are," Jasper scolds.

I can see the house now, an olive green two-story building with a bright tin roof. Masses of brown, black, white, and grey streak around the structure. There's a small heap of white—maybe half a body—but I notice that two vampires appear to be untouched. A redhead is up a tree, taunting three wolves, while a crafty male has doubled-back around the pair of wolves that were stalking him.

Maria is nowhere to be seen. Then again, it's just like her to let others do her dirty work while she looks on. No doubt she already knows we're here.

"Edward, Em, Esme, and Alice, ya'll help the wolves outside. Watch the male. He's a shifty bastard. Jasper, yer comin' with me." I don't even bother waiting for a confirmation. I'm looking for an outside entrance to the basement, but there are no windows or doors to be found. I don't want to make a front door entrance, but it looks like I have no other choice.

I can hear Bella's heartbeat now. It's tachycardic. No more than a faint, shallow-sounding pulse. It's nothing like the strong, vibrant beat that normally brings me comfort when I'm near her. I feel as though my very life-line is flickering. The tethers that bind me to her—to reality itself—are wound tight, threatening to break.

I'll barrel through anything and anyone that stands in my way to get to her. To ensure that she's safe. The blood—her sweet, intoxicating scent—is rich in the air. Bella's blood is mingled with something … no, _someone_ else. With chilling certainty, I realize I may have to take her mortality in order to save her—and myself. It's the most selfish of reasons, but I can't image living another day of this life without her in it.

The others split off from me and Jasper as we spin around to the entrance of the house. The door stands ajar, too inviting. Unfortunately, I have little time for caution.

I smell the scent of the wolf—_Jake_—inside and hope he hasn't fucked things up. Charlotte's scent is there too, mixed heavily with Bella's. My mind immediately flickers back to the conjured image of a blood-thirsty Charlotte. I cross the threshold with a low growl, bracing for what I may find.

A large, red-brown wolf passes within an inch of my right shoulder, barely tossing me a passing glance. I can smell Charlotte approaching, and conflicting emotions tumble through my skull. Relief. Betrayal. Anger. Faith. They spin my thoughts into muck, clouding my purpose.

Then, I see her, _all_ of her. The image in my head is more or less a reality. Dried blood is splattered across her mouth and down her neck, staining the crisp white of her dress. She looks like a fallen angel, disgraced but repentant. It's the all-consuming guilt in her eyes that halts my fury. That, and the fact that Bella's heart still beats.

Charlotte looks worse for wear. Her blonde curls are plastered to her head. She's missing half of her left hand and a large chunk out of her right calf. The wolf must have gotten to her. Normally that would piss me off, but given the circumstances, I'm thankful he stepped in.

"Peter … I—I'm …" Charlotte mumbles, looking even more pitiful.

"Jus—" I begin, but Jasper's rough shove cuts me off. I'm thrown off-balance for a moment, but then _she_ comes into view.

"Peter. Jasper. It's good of you to come, " Maria purrs, peering down at us from her perch on the stairway. A tall, dark-haired male takes his position in front of her. _They don't have a fucking scent! _The whole house is devoid of any trace of them. _How in the hell …_

"I have to admit, the wolves were a surprise." She gestures toward Jasper with a light-hearted chuckle, "Of course, I always have a few tricks up my sleeve." Maria smiles a smug grin, turning her head from side to side, her arms outstretched before her. "Listen. What do you hear?"

The only thing I hear is the faint sound of Bella's weak heartbeat, reminding me I have no time for her fucking riddles. My growl earns me a chastising tut.

"You're family has surrendered, and your dear mate is bleeding to death, thanks to Charlotte."

_No! It's a trick,_ my mind screams. Though I can't help but notice the eerie silence that's fallen outside.

Not wanting to be subject to Maria's games any longer, I make the rash decision to bolt for the basement. Two feet from the doorway, I am stopped by the blond male from outside. His smile is taunting … so I head butt him.

I connect, but so does he … right in my ribs. I feel the crunch of his blow as pain radiates along the newly-formed cracks.

"Meet James. He's quite talented." Maria's pretty damned pleased with herself.

"Why can't I go to her?" I roar in irritation.

"You haven't heard my terms yet."

"Spit 'em out."

"You will serve me, indefinitely."

"What about my mate?"

"She is to remain _human_. Turn her and you both die."

_Fuck. _If I leave her human, she _will _die_._ I close my eyes, frustration building within me.

"And what about Charlotte?" I bark out through clenched teeth. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize my error. Maria doesn't simply 'let someone go.' You serve her or die. There's no middle ground. Either way, Charlotte dies or spends the rest of her life in service to Maria. Still, Char doesn't need to hear the confirmation.

I turn back to look at Char, guilt plaguing my mind. For the twenty-two years I had searched for her. She had been Maria's captive. She shouldn't have to spend the rest of her eternity in servitude.  
>I expect to find resignation in Charlotte's eyes, the result of her sealed fate and the long years of her imprisonment. Instead, there's an unmistakable glimmer. My eyes narrow in question. <em>Am I reading her right?<em> A smile plays at the corner of her lips.

Char lunges for the blond's left shoulder as I drop down on my haunches. Waiting until he's off balance from dodging her blow, I deliver a kick to the back of his knees, enjoying the satisfying crack. With a small shove from Char, the male falls forward spinning sunny-side up as he goes down. I'm waiting for him on bended knee. As his neck falls to my leg, my elbow connects with his face. Jasper had aptly dubbed this move 'the guillotine.' The end result is a decapitated vampire. As long as no one puts him back together again, his ass will stay down.

I glance back to Jasper, noticing that he's moved closer to Maria and her pet, waiting for them to make a move. As I expect, Maria doesn't spare a sideways glance to her felled comrade.

"Feel better, now?" Maria asks with a bemused smirk.

Though the release of my pent up rage helps to tide the anger some, I still can't help but think it's misplaced. Sure, he had it coming, but my anger is directed at one person alone, and I fully intend to knock that bitch right off of her pedestal.

Now that no one's standing in my way, I descend the stairs into the basement. Charlotte's shadow blocks out the light streaming into the small room as she takes her position in front of the doorway.  
>I already know Bella's in bad shape. Her ragged pulse falters every few minutes. The typically strong lub-dub sound now stutters. Its pace seems forced.<p>

All I see is a pair of legs extending out from behind a stack of boxes—_it's not Bella._ _That explains the other scent I had detected mixed with hers. _

My vision flickers to the left, finding Charlotte's pale white hand in a pool of crimson red—Bella's blood, and a lot of it. My eyes dilate and venom rises in my throat as I take in the heady scent. It's her unique scent—her unique flavor—magnified ten-fold.

"It took you long enough," Bella mutters with a weak voice from behind a tower of boxes. All thoughts of blood leave me at the sound of her voice. I'm instantly by her side, cradling her delicate form in my arms. She winces from the movement.

"It's pretty bad, isn't it?" Her eyes flutter, unable to stay open. I can tell she's struggling to focus on my face. Her whole body shakes in my arms, small tremors racking her slight frame. My fond memories of her sexy, little uniform are tarnished by this blood-spattered scene.

"No." I shake my head with a sad smile, gingerly wiping away a blood-drenched strand of hair from her face. "Nothin' that won't heal."

"Will it hurt?" she asks, her eyebrows knitting together as she looks up at me. It takes a moment, but I understand her question. She assumes I'll have to change her. God help me, if only I could.

_Maria_ will know it the moment my teeth sink through her flesh. Human or not, my Bella will _live_.

_Where the fuck is Carlisle?_

There's no other option. I curse under my breath.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm goin' to havta leave you for a moment. I need to find Carlisle."

Reluctantly, she nods, and I feel her body tense in preparation. She grimaces as I carefully place her back on the ground. Her head lolls back and her eyes close, her body sighing into the ground. I lean in, brushing my lips against hers. In the state of shock that's overtaken her body, her lips have grown cold. _Her body is slowly shutting down._ I choke back a broken sob as I grasp the gravity of what I may have to face.

Charlotte stands aside as I hastily make my way back up the stairs.

"I need Carlisle. _Now!_"

"I'm afraid he's rather indisposed at the moment," Maria responds with haunting laugh.

"She's lying."

Jasper confirms my suspicions, but I still don't understand _how_. I can't detect any movement or familiar scents outside. It's as if the fighting taking place when we entered the home had never even happened, all memory of it completely washed away.

I shoulder past Jasper and make it out the front door.

The scene outside is nothing like what I expect. _They are all still here._

The Cullens and the wolves are engaged in a standoff. A grey wolf bristles at my sudden presence.  
>Carlisle and Esme have taken up a defensive position in front of a thin, blonde female with Edward and Emmett flanking her on either side. Alice's spiky hair can barely be seen behind the new arrival.<br>_Who the hell is this bitch and where did she come from?_ _I don't have time for this._

"Carlisle, I need you in here. Bella's in a bad way."

Carlisle's head whips back and forth between me and the wolves. He looks to his family, sharing a silent exchange before walking over to me. The circle tightens around the lithe vampire as the wolves edge closer.

Carlisle follows me inside cautiously, eying Maria.

"Tend to her quickly. I want her alive and _human_," Maria orders.

Carlisle nods, pulling his stethoscope from around his neck. He's still dressed in his white coat, which still looks crisp and clean. He places what's meant to be a reassuring hand on my shoulder as we descend the staircase into the basement. I fight the urge to shrug it off.

"Oh, dear Lord," he utters as he takes in Bella's appearance. With a grim look on his face, he assesses her vitals.

"Tell it to me straight, Doc." I stand with my hands crossed over my chest, chewing on my bottom lip.

"She has lost quite a bit of blood. Her brachial artery has been severed, which accounts for the major blood loss. Her carotid pulse is weak, and her radial and dorsalis pulses are entirely absent. Her body is barely keeping her central nervous system running. Organ failure will begin soon if it hasn't already. I have to get her to the hospital now, if there is any hope at all."

Carlisle confirms my worst fears. I have to make a difficult decision.

Vengeance can wait.

I lift Bella's limp form, cradling her against my chest.

All eyes are on me as we reemerge on the main floor. Alice and Char gasp in horror at the pale form draped in my arms. Maria and the dark-haired male seem completely unconcerned.

I march right past them on my way out the front door with Carlisle by my side.

"Where do you think you're going?" Maria's voice makes my pause in my tracks.

"To the hospital, before she dies," I bite out, not bothering to turn to face her. Seeing her face right now might make me do something I'll regret, and Bella can't afford any delays.

"_You_ will not leave. The doctor is permitted to take her to the hospital."

I turn to face her now. "I'm going with her."

"You will not! Arguing with me will not save her. Listen to her heart. It grows weaker still. If you delay her further, she will die!"

I can't hold back the growl that rips from my chest.

Relinquishing the little control I have left, I carefully hand Bella over to Carlisle's waiting arms. He grasps my forearm for a moment, a resolute expression on his face, and then heads out the front door.

I watch their progress through the open doorway, my fists clenching and unclenching with impotent rage.

The wolves whimper, bark, and paw at the ground at the sight of Bella's pale form cradled in Carlisle's arms. Jake lets out a mournful bellow and collapses to the earthen floor. Vampires and wolves move aside for them as they pass.

It seems everyone has lost their taste for battle.


	17. Chapter 17

**Now beta'd by the wonderful Raindropsoup!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Renewal<strong>

**Peter's Point of View**

I am defeated. It's a feeling that doesn't sit well with me. I've given up everything and gained nothing in return. No peace of mind. No solace—_nothing_. Bitterness slashes through me as I look at the scene outside. The willowy blonde vampire is snarling. She seems to be the only one that hasn't lost the will to fight.

_What the hell am I doing?_

The thought crosses my mind as a growl rings out from behind me. I spin around to find Jasper crouched, ready to attack. Maria is clutching a cell phone to her ear as her lips quiver into the receiver. I can't hear a thing she's saying.

_Her little pet has to die._

I propel myself forward, using every bit of strength my body is capable of to launch myself at the tall, dark-haired vampire.

In a split second, several things transpire. Maria's usually unamused expression changes to wide-eyed fear as the phone slips carelessly from her grasp. She lunges for her pet as the tall vampire reaches his long arms toward her in return. The second their fingers touch, they vanish. _Gone_. At this point, I'm still airborne, and there is nothing I can do to stop myself from hurtling forward. I brace for impact with the hardwood stairs, but I'm stunned when I collide with an unseen object.

_They're still here!_

I scramble to get my arms around what I believe to be the tall one's leg, but the slippery bastard slides through my grasp. I crawl up two steps before I can get my feet back underneath me. At this point, Jasper's caught on and passes me on the stairs, his arms held in high guard waiting for unseen attacks.

We make it to the upper level of the house, but of course, see no one. I reach out with my other senses and hear the barely audible noise of a window sliding open to our left. Eyeing a doorway, I clamor toward it, shouldering past Jasper and into the room. Without a thought, I launch myself through the window, not bothering to take in the surrounding landscape. As it turns out, there's a tall pine tree not five feet from the window. Reaching out with my left arm and leg, I swing around the trunk and whack into the backside of the evergreen with a resounding thud. This maneuver lessens the impact, but I still feel a dull ache reverberating throughout my body.

Jasper has now made it out the window and is on foot on the ground, canvassing the area. Charlotte peers at me through the window.

"Close the window and stay at the doorway of the house, in case they double back around."

She nods and closes the window, locking it from the inside. It won't stop a vampire from entering, but they'll either have to break the window or rip the frame from the building to get inside—both of which, will cause a fair amount of noise.

Jasper hasn't signaled that he's picked up on anything, so I clutch to the tree. The ache has dissipated, and I can now sense the vibrations through the trunk. Sure enough, there's movement coming from the top of the tree, and it's too big to be a fucking squirrel.

I climb the trunk, easily finding foot and hand holds to propel myself up the ancient tree. I feel the distinct sway as they jump to a nearby evergreen, tracking their movement by the rustle of branches.

"Jasper, look up." It's not the best idea to alert them that I've caught onto their trail, but it helps to have a pair of eyes on the ground.

Taking hold of a higher branch, I launch myself toward the nearby tree, barely making it across the wide expanse. As expected, the Tarzan experience doesn't last for long, and we're both back on the ground, chasing something we can't see or smell. The occasional rustle of fallen leaves is our only clue that we're going the right direction.

Jasper makes a whooping noise, the same signal he had made for his newborn troops to re-group. I can only hope that we'll soon have some back-up.

**Carlisle's Point of View**

I walk away from my family with some hesitation, realizing my absence could cost them. For the moment, we had been at an impasse. The wolves had resisted attacking my family out of respect for the treaty that had been set in place by their grandfathers. In conflict with this is their very nature and duty to kill any vampire that poses a threat to the people of Forks.

Irina's poor choice in companions had placed us at odds with the pack. Thankfully, in the beginning she had been too afraid to fight the wolves, who were busy enough with Irina's supposed mate and his friends. The turning point had been the dismemberment of her olive-toned companion. Emmett, unaware of Irina's affection for the downed vampire, set fire to Laurent's remains.

Irina had become unhinged and blindly attacked a small, grey wolf. That had been the point where the stand-off began. Irina had been the last known target on the premises as the wolves had lost the scent of the blond male. The redhead had also served to split the wolves' numbers by sending three of them to chase her fading trial.

If only we had not been so caught up in our own matters to realize the absence of sound or scent from within the house, we would have realized how frivolous our little qualm had really been.

Knowing what I now know, I will waste no time where Bella is concerned. Though unspoken, I made a promise to Peter to keep her alive. I will change her myself if it comes to it, regardless of what it might cost myself as a result. I am to blame for this, in part. She had been taken while under my care as a physician of the hospital, and I will do everything within my power to assure her safety and well-being.

I quickly phone the emergency department.

"This is Dr. Cullen. I am en route with an animal mauling victim. Have all available emergency staff meet me at the west entrance with a stretcher. Also, I will need an OR prepped and six pints of O positive on hand."

"Yes, sir. Um, how many victims did you say, sir?" Jimmy answers the phone, a young and capable, but often times lazy, resident.

"Only one, but she is of the highest priority." I take in a shaky breath before continuing, looking down at the pale girl in my arms. "It is Bella Swan, the police chief's daughter and the member of our staff who was abducted from our hospital yesterday."

"Yes, sir. What is your estimated ETA?" Jimmy's voice is now more alert.

"Five minutes." I can hear him gasp, but he quickly recovers.

"Yes, sir. We'll be as ready as we can."

Without another word, I end the connection. I have another phone call to make.

"Yes?" My daughter answers.

"I need you to meet me at the hospital." It's not often that I give out an edict to my children, but when I do, I expect them not to question me.

"What's going on?"

"Bella is in a grave state, and I am unable to personally be with her after her recovery. I need you to come to the hospital to watch over her."

"Wh—"

"I will not tolerate your indignation on this matter, Rosalie. Your refusal to stand with your family has been excused, but you _will_ do this. It is not only Bella's life that hangs in the balance, but also the lives of your family and your mate. Do not go against me on this." With that, I end the call, resisting the urge to continue my invective.

I have many mental preparations to make. Bella has lost over four pints of blood and will likely require more during her surgeries. No doubt her left shoulder will require extensive tendon and soft-tissue repair. Even with efficient work, we will be facing a minimum of a four hour surgery. My hospital-required human assistants will only serve to slow my pace. If there had been another sterile environment with the necessary tools available, I could make much faster work of things on my own and, in turn, improve Bella's recovery time.

The faltering of her sluggish heart reminds me that my musings do nothing to help her case. The hospital is just beyond the next grove of trees. On any other occasion, I may worry about the odd sight of me emerging from the tree-line with no obvious vehicle in view. However, this is different. I can make excuses later, and I have many to formulate.

The sight of four gowned associates is a welcome one. They rush into the parking lot once we emerge from the forest. I gently place Bella on the stretcher while informing them of her condition.  
>They immediately understand the gravity of the situation.<p>

I stay by Bella's side until she passes through the double doors of the OR. I enter the small adjoining room and use my true speed to gown up. I take a moment to monitor the sound of Bella's pulse and am thankful to hear it strengthen in response to the blood and fluids now being pumped through her veins.

I bark at the anesthesiologist, who sits idly reading a magazine at the head of Bella's stretcher. His delay is costing valuable time. He jumps at the sound of my voice and springs to action as I hover over him, examining his work. The Methohexital slowly takes effect.

After wound debridement of her left shoulder, I see how extensive the damage is. Bella requires a total-shoulder replacement—a delicate surgery with a lengthy recovery. Her right shoulder is not much better off.

It is six lengthy hours later when Bella is wheeled into her recovery room. These next few days will be trying as there is nothing more we can do but wait. Her injuries have been repaired to be best of my ability. Now it is her job alone to heal.

I am relieved to see Rosalie waiting just outside the doors to the surgical unit. The look on her face tells me she would rather be elsewhere. Still, the fact that she is here is a welcome relief.

"She is in the recovery room. I have cleared you for entrance. Page me if her condition changes."

I leave Rosalie, entrusting that she will carry out the task I have assigned her. I know that beneath her cold exterior is a woman afraid to feel. If she would only embrace the little humanity she has left instead of lamenting the loss of it. To say that I do not regret my decision to change her would be an outright lie. Seeing the anguish she endures by my hand has been nearly insufferable at times. Emmett serves to ease it some, but it lingers.

Still, I know that Rosalie will do everything in her power to keep the human Bella alive. Regrettably, I have reports and phone calls to attend to. Making my way to my office, I keep my eyes averted from anyone who may want to strike up a conversation. Unfortunately, there is one person I cannot keep at bay.

Chief Swan is pacing the floor outside my office and rushes toward me as soon as I turn the corner.

**Bella's Point of View**

I know I'm at the hospital, but everything seems different. The normally bright florescent lights and strong chemical smells are absent. The hospital is dimly lit in greys and taupes instead of the garish blues and yellows I'm accustomed to. Come to think of it, this doesn't look like Forks General Hospital at all.

The hallways are lined with light grey, cloth-covered walls and pristine linoleum floors. The nurses' station is neat and orderly, staffed with unfamiliar smiling faces.

_Is that …? No, it can't be._ I swear Dr. McDreamy—as in Mr. Patrick Dempsey himself—is casually flipping through some charts in his deep blue scrubs and sparkling white lab coat.

I want to get a closer look, but for some reason, I continue down the hallway, unaffected by McDreamy's presence.

Turning to face a door marked "Janitor's closet," an unexplained thrill of excitement runs through me. Without thinking, I turn the handle and enter the small room. There's a tall man inside, his back turned away from me. All I can make out is dark, short hair and broad shoulders.

"Janitor?" I hear my own voice question, but it sounds … _off_. Deeper. _Sensual_. Confident. Everything that I am decidedly not.

The man turns around, suddenly illuminated by an overhead light, casting a halo of gold over his hunky form. Confident Bella gasps in delight, while I inwardly gasp in shock. _Peter_ takes two long strides to stand before me, still illuminated by the strange light that seems to follow his every move.  
>The perspective changes, and I now have a vantage point of the whole room.<p>

_Who the hell is that? _

A surge of green-eyed jealousy runs through me until I take a closer look.

_Oh my God, I must be dreaming. Why the fuck hadn't that fact dawned on me until this very moment? I mean really, McDreamy in the newly-remodeled Forks General?_

I see myself, clad in what I can only assume is supposed to resemble my work uniform. The only similarity is the tell-tale red and white stripes printed on the incredibly short and incredibly tight pleather material. _This dream must be a spin-off of some naughty nurse porno._

I decide I'll come along for the ride. Hey, maybe slutty Bella can give me a few pointers. The outfit seems to be getting a rise out of Peter—literally. _Yum. Just as long as I won't be taking anyone's rectal temp. That's crossing the line._

"Please tell me you're doing everything you can to fix the air conditioning. I'm dying over here." Slutty Bella pouts and fans herself while tugging at the low-cut neckline of her pleather outfit.  
><em>Really, the air-conditioning's out?<em> _How cliché is that? Couldn't my subconscious come up with something more original? Honestly, I'm disappointed in myself._

"I'm very sorry, Ma 'am," Peter drawls, his accent much thicker than in real life. "I'm doin' everythin' that I can ta get it back up an' runnin'."

"Everything?" porn star Bella asks with a raised eyebrow, pursing her collagen-injected lips.

"Well, I suppose I can try ta make ya comfortable in the meantime, Miss."

The Candy Stripper looks interested.

"How do you plan on accomplishing that?" she asks, while playfully running a finger up and down the zipper of the mock smock.

Peter pulls a metal bucket of ice from a nearby shelf that I swear wasn't there a moment ago.

_Who's in charge of editing this shit?_

Sleazy Bella takes a single ice cube in her right hand and starts unzipping her striped latex suit with her left. The ice cube slides between her ample cleavage—those puppies have to be taped together for that effect—leaving a wet trail in its wake. Peter licks his lips deliciously, his eyes captivated by the show.

Ballsy Bella swirls the ice around her naval, shivering delicately as she throws her head back. Peter moans in response. Having his full attention, she hooks a finger under the waistband of her matching white and red striped thong and pulls it away from her skin. The ice cube disappears inside.

_What the …?_

"Oh … that's better," Bella purrs.

_Really, how can an ice cube in your … oh, never mind, I get it._

Peter lifts Bella, and all I see are her white thigh-high clad legs, wrapping around his waist as the lighting begins to fade into darkness.

_Ah, hell no! I was enjoying that. _

It's no use. No matter how hard I try to drum up the yummy vision, I can't slip back into my happy dream.

The darkness remains, but I begin to sense new sounds and smells. The heavy stench of cleaners fills the air, nearly drowning out the ammonia. There's an incessant beeping that's quickly getting on my already frazzled nerves.

_Seriously, would someone turn that fucking alarm clock off?_ It keeps beeping and _beeping _and _beeping_ for fuck's sake! Don't they know I'm trying to finish my wet dream over here?

I try to move, try to open my eyes, but I can't. I can't move _anything_. What the _fuck_? _Wait, calm down. You've read about this. It's a sleeping condition. What the hell is it called?_

Sleep paralysis!

_No reason to panic. I can't move, but I can talk, right? _I'll just calmly ask someone to turn off the alarm clock, adding the small threat of murder should they refuse.

I try to open my … _oh, wait_. How can I talk if I can't freaking move my mouth? _Jeff Dunham can do it_, my subconscious mockingly suggests.

_Well, then I'll shove my hand up someone's ass so far I'll use them as a puppet. How's that?_

"How's she doing?" a detached-sounding voice asks from somewhere close by. _Is there a cat in the room?_ I swear I hear something hissing.

"Who the hell are you?"

Well, that's a voice I recognize, but what the hell is Rosalie Cullen-Hale doing in my bedroom … or dream—wherever the hell this is?

"Maria sent me to make sure the human wasn't in the throes of the change, or dead. Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt your pathetic little pet," the feline voice spits.

_Maria_. Her name sends shivers up my numbed spine.

_Please, just let this be a bad dream._


	18. Chapter 18

**Beta'd by her awesomeness, Raindropsoup!  
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><p><strong>Fishing<strong>

**Bella's Point of View**

"What the hell are you doing?" It's the feline voice that's talking.

_Dammit! Why can't I open my eyes?_ I struggle to try and get some response out of my body, but nothing happens. I'm trapped inside my own skin.

"Paging my father so someone can escort your ass off the premises."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Wouldn't want to me go killing any _precious humans_, would we?" She laughs. It sounds hollow.

I hear a door open to my left. The hustle and bustle of scurrying feet and murmuring voices momentarily fills the room before the door closes.

"Bella's father is coming. I suggest you wait outside—both of you."

It's Dr. Cullen. His voice is grounding. It roots me to reality. A grim truth slowly starts to come into focus. Memories of the last few days flood my mind, seeming more dream than real: Maria and her henchman taking me from the hospital, being thrown in a basement with my boyfriend's ex, Charlotte's hunger taking over, Jacob coming to the rescue, and my skin being flayed open nearly to the bone. Then there's Peter cradling me against him—_my savior_. My memories had been anesthetized along with the rest of me as I fought to stay alive. I know that my life had been caught in the balance—barely retaining a foothold in the world of the living.

So, I'm in the hospital … _alive._ That beeping, the constant metronome, is the mechanical echo of my heartbeat. I vaguely remember giving Peter permission to turn me—to make me like him. Did I really ask him, or had I imagined that part?

"Well, at least someone in your family has some manners. Thanks all the same, but I think I'll stay."

The beeping quickens at the sound of _her_ voice. There's a whooshing noise in my ears. I don't know who the hell this chic is, but I know I don't want her _anywhere_ near my father.

"Leave. Now. Your presence here is distressing her." Dr. Cullen seems quite adamant.

"I have specific orders …"

"If you do not leave now, she will likely go into cardiac arrest. Then you will be guarding a _dead_ human."

"Okay. _Okay_. Sheesh."

The door opens again. After a pause, I pick up the sound of boots shuffling across the linoleum floor. I hear the rustle of clothing, ragged breathing, and the clank of metal on metal. It suddenly occurs to me how noisy humans are compared to vampires.

A clammy hand gingerly pats the back of my own. It's an odd sensation—numb and prickling all at the same time. Charlie's trying hard to keep it together. I don't have to see him to know that. I wish I could see what he's seeing as he looks at me. I wish I could comfort him and tell him that I'll be okay.

"What happened to her?" His voice, usually strong, sounds broken and fragile.

"We can only speculate. From the lacerations on her shoulders, it had to be a large animal that attacked her. A bear most likely." Dr. Cullen's tone is calm, almost soothing, as he answers. He's had lifetimes to practice conversations like this.

"No. No. _No_." Charlie's voice starts out small and builds with anger. "I meant, _who_ did this to her? _Who _took her out to the woods and left her there, _vulnerable_? I swear, if you know any more than you're letting on, _Doctor_, I'll ruin you. I'll ruin you and anyone else involved with this." His boots squeak across the floor as he paces. "I just … I can't understand how you _miraculously_ found her in the woods that we've searched through countless times. Something isn't adding up, and I'll get to the bottom of it one way or another." There's a pause before Charlie forces out a sigh. "I'm not saying _you're_ responsible for this, but I know … I _suspect_ you know who is. Was it Peter? Are you protecting him?"

The sound of Peter's name, spoken in anger by my father, spurs something inside of me. The tingling sensation I felt when Charlie touched me feels like it has spread over my entire body. For the first time since waking up in this hospital bed, I can hear my own breath rush in and out of my lungs.  
>A cool hand touches my forehand. It feels nice.<p>

"Bella, this is Doctor Cullen. You need to calm down. Everything will be fine. Just listen to the sound of my voice and let yourself relax."

"She can hear us?" Charlie's voice sounds optimistic for the first time since he entered the room. "Bells, honey. It's your Dad. Listen to me. I'm gonna find out who did this to you, you hear? Don't you worry, Angel. I—"

"Chief Swan, I need to give Bella something to let her rest."

I hear Charlie begin to protest, but I can't make out his words. There's a heavy warmth that begins to flow through my limbs, spreading rapidly over my body. Blackness begins to take over—deadening and absolute. I fight it with everything I have, but it consumes me.

**Peter's Point of View**

This chase could continue indefinitely. None of us have the need for rest, and it's obvious that Maria's done her homework by learning the area. Her retreat isn't a blind one. I get the chilling sense that she's leading us somewhere, and underestimating her has been the downfall of many.  
>The rustle of leaves rings out like an alarm. <em>We're being followed<em>. A low growl slips from between my lips.

"It's Em and Alice." Jasper is careful to keep his voice low and his explanation quick.

_So Jasper's signal hasn't gone unanswered_. I'm happy to learn that he's taught the Cullens a lesson or two from his time with Maria. Poorly-trained allies are more of a liability than an asset when it comes to a fight. And it _will_ come to a fight.

Jasper and I trail Maria and her gifted pet by no more than fifty yards, careful to stay close on their heels. Our only clue to their whereabouts is the occasional sound of branches cracking underfoot and Maria's unmistakable scent. Her companion is completely devoid of a scent. I guess that must be the most basic manifestation of his gift—his self-preservation. I'm comforted by this. People with abilities like his rarely take the time to learn how to fight, often relying heavily on their precious gifts. I can only hope he's a recent addition to Maria's ranks; otherwise, she will have remedied this by training him herself.

Though I have never seen Maria actually fight, there's no mistaking that she_ is_ a fighter. You don't survive long in Maria's line of work without having at least some basic skills. The clues have always been there for those who know what to look for—the way she orients herself to others, the scattered scars thinly veiled by her ever-present shawl.

So, even though I'm faster than Jasper—faster than Maria and her minion—I don't dare approach them on my own. I'm no good to Bella dead, and her survival hinges on leaving this fight in one piece. Self-sacrifice will only get us both killed.

The thought of my Bellarenews the burning ache in my chest. The more distance I put between us, the more pain I feel. The pain is comforting. It tells me she's still alive and fighting—just as I'm fighting, too.

Jasper snaps his fingers to get my attention. Emmett and Alice have closed the distance between us and are now only a dozen yards behind. He uses the sign language we created over a hundred years ago. It's rudimentary at best, but it manages to get the point across.

Jasper has a plan. The goal is to separate Maria from her little pet. Sever the connection, and lover boy becomes an easy target. Jasper's counting on Adolfo's indoctrination into Maria's camp being so complete that her minion will forgo the need of self-preservation in an attempt to save Maria. That'll mean he'll be easy pickings, leaving Maria exposed.

Emmett isn't exactly the quietest vampire around, so Maria has to realize by now that we have backup. She'll be looking for a way to shake us soon. The fact that she hasn't already made an attempt is worrisome. I can't help but think that we're being led right into a trap. Jasper must realize this, too, or has at least picked up on my wariness.

At Jasper's command, Alice takes to the trees, soaring from branch to branch like a flying squirrel. Emmett pushes forward, closing the distance between us easily. For a big guy, he sure is quick on his feet. Emmett's now shoulder to shoulder with us, waiting on Jasper's command to charge ahead.

As Alice flips silently from one0 tree to the next, she gives us a thumbs up. I wipe all thoughts from my mind, except for one single drive. _One chance. That's all we get._ I hope Alice has seen that this works.

Maria's henchman might fall for our ruse, but Maria won't. She'll be watching us. She knows our tactics. Alice is the key. If Maria's unaware of her presence, she'll be the distraction we need to eliminate Maria's pet. We can only hope that'll be enough to throw her for a loop, or at least a momentary lapse in judgment. The minion's life means nothing to Maria beyond the protection he provides her. Whatever plan she's brewing, we're counting on it hinging on her pet staying alive.

Time seems to slow as we blur into action.

I've never seen a more perfect representation of the phrase 'going in blind.' Here we are, planning an attack on two people we can't even see—relying only on the sense of smell and the few leaves they occasionally kick up into the air.

Emmett charges forward with a war cry on his lips. He wants their attention, and with someone as big and intimidating as Emmett, he commands it.

We charge in behind him, careful to keep a distance of ten yards between us. If Jasper and I hang back too far, Maria's likely to come to us. We need to keep things on our terms—our grounds.  
>Emmett's barreling forward like a freight train, leading with his head—<em>the dumb fuck<em>.

_Intimidating? _Yes. _Smart?_ No.

It's maddening not knowing what's going on. All I see is Emmett flying backward as the keening sound of stone meeting stone rings out. Alice takes this as her cue, dropping right on top of … _someone_. I can't tell who. She's a ball of motion, never pausing more than a millisecond, never allowing them to get their hands on her.

Jasper and I approach in high guard, protecting our most vulnerable points against attacks. With our hopes of going up against visible targets dashed, doubt starts to creep in. Thinking you're outmatched—or even at a disadvantage—is poison to the mind of a fighter. _We underestimated her pet's power._

Jasper rushes in to protect his mate, while I walk past a dazed Emmett, searching for signs of Maria's whereabouts. Her scent is so heavy in the air that I can't tell where it's strongest. On a whim, I approach an area of trampled leaves. Instinct tells me to duck, and I do, feeling a gust of air pass over my head.

_She's here._

Time to pull out my 'dirty old man tricks,' as Jasper had aptly dubbed them. Protecting my head and neck with my right arm, I ready my left for an attack. Sliding forward on my back leg, I bring my right leg into the air before stomping on the ground. Even if I don't connect with anything, this maneuver is designed to throw off my opponent—to divert their gaze to my feet rather than my hands.

I hear a muffled groan and a smile stretches across my face. Twisting my torso right, I let my left arm fly, praying I'll connect with something.

My knuckles crack under the pressure of my blow, and a very shocked Maria winks into existence. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance. She's better than that, though. She arranges herself in a stance I'm unfamiliar with—a low, wide stance with her arms tucked against her chest. I'm about to put her fighting skills to the test, knowing she has the upper hand.

"Maria," her pet dares to call out. I don't spare him a glance. Doing so could be the end of me. I'll have backup as soon as they finish the male off. Until then, it's all on me.

Maria's wearing her signature condescending smirk. If she's afraid, she's not letting it show. Confidence will get you far, but only to a point. It's a lesson that I had beat into me, and a lesson I'm hoping to teach Maria right now.

If I make the first attack, it will have to land. Miss, and I'll leave myself open. I perform a series of feints, testing her reactions and learning her style.

"Come now, Peter. What are you waiting for?"

I won't fall for taunts like this. When I make my move, it'll be _my_ choice.

We twist and dance, moving back and forth in a slow circle. My eyes flicker to her footwork, looking for a point of weakness. _There it is._ Though dancing lends itself to fighting, there are points where elegance supersedes balance. Maria crosses her left leg in front of her right. It's a small error, but her balance is compromised.

I fake a right upper cut, missing on purpose as I spin my left leg around, sweeping hers out from underneath her. She falls to the ground, causing a slight tremor from the impact. Having no time to spare, I bring my right heel down on top of her supine form. The bitch rolls out of the way a moment before I make contact.

My left arm connects with her right shoulder as she rises to her knees. The blow causes her to soar backward two yards, but like a damned cat, she lands on her feet.

My anger gets the best of me, and I charge headlong toward her. She easily sidesteps, and I nearly hit a tree.

I've given her a great advantage—time. She's up the tree before I can recover my bearings. It's an oppressive feeling, knowing your enemy has a vantage point. I'm a sitting duck, waiting for her airborne attack.

For the first time since I engaged Maria, I take in the noises around me—the keening sounds, the oomphs and groans. I take a few steps back, never taking my eyes off of Maria in her perch.

"You almost done over there?" I ask no one in particular.

"Nearly," Alice responds, her voice breathy with exertion.

Maria's two ruby eyes disappear, causing me to scramble.

"She's on the move." I curse myself for my stupidity. Fearing an aerial attack, I put too much distance between us. Although this time around, I can at least _see _her.

A sweet incense wafts through the air, thick and cloying. It's a good sign. _Backup is coming_, I think with a smile. Jasper sends me a much needed surge of reassurance. _There's no way we can fail. It's three against one._

Maria's leading us northwest toward the water. The scenery is changing. The forest thins as the trees lose their height and ground cover becomes sparse. I've never been to this area before, but I've heard there are cliffs to the west, towering over coarse, sandy beaches. To the north are the ferries, nestled between two small fishing villages. Unless she plans on doubling back around, both destinations mean exposure. The clouds have been thinning over the course of our chase, allowing the sun to break through in a few patches.

A branch whipping in my face, a quick veer to the left—these are Maria's attempts to shake me. Instead, all they do is add a few measly yards of distance between us. My confidence builds. This is no calculated retreat, no carefully-orchestrated plan. This is Maria's last chance to save herself. I won't give her the option.

The soft soil gives way to the hard-packed earth. Sounds of rushing water can be heard to my right. There's a waterfall up ahead. We're nearing a cliff's face.

Maria's options are running out. If she doubles back around, she'll run smack into Jasper, Alice, and Emmett. If she runs along the cliff's face, she risks exposure. If she dives off the cliff's face, she'll be reduced to a pile of rumble on the beach below.

I close the distance between us, waiting for her to make her next move. She continues straight ahead, veering only slightly toward the right—toward the waterfall. Does she intend to use this to conceal her fall? I'm about to find out as a wide, open expanse of Forks' grey sky fills my vision and the salty sea air fills my lungs. I can now see that the river running off the cliff is more of a stream with a fast-flowing current.

Maria doesn't pause before soaring over the cliff's edge. For the second time today, I blindly follow her. Once over the edge, I see my mistake—a mistake that will cost me. I've overreached, propelled myself too far. Maria is caught in the water, heading for a deep blue pool below. Me? I'm heading straight for the beach—the beach where humans prepare their bait, hoping for a good catch.

I know the impact won't kill me, but it will hurt like Hell. Instead, pieces of me will likely be scattered across the beach, creating a great show for the humans to watch as I inexplicably piece myself back together. Meanwhile, Maria will be safely in the water, her retreat concealed even more by the spectacle I'll create.

"Well, fuck me."

In the next moment, I brace for impact, tucking myself tightly into a ball. I can't stop myself from becoming humpty freaking dumpty, but I can try to limit the damage of the impact. Sure, this is going to hurt like a bitch, but what's even more painful is the thought of Maria slipping through my fingers—again.


	19. Chapter 19

**Wow, I can't believe I got this out sooner than anticipated. Yes, the chapter is a little bit shorter than most, but I think it has what most of you have been waiting for. Thank you all for the lovely reviews, favorites, and subscriptions. Each and every one makes me smile. =)  
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**Warning: I do not own Twilight and this is not beta'd.  
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><p><strong>Vengeance<strong>

**Charlotte's Point of View**

I feel horrible just standing here, pacing the floors. It's a helpless feeling, not knowing what's happening to those you love.

I had always been able to find Peter through our bond—to feel the faint hum of his presence in my mind. Naturally, I had assumed it was the bond felt between mates. So, when I came across Maria I tried for the first time to shut Peter out for his own safety. It was no use. I couldn't shut out what my heart longed for. I had heard of her power and knew that she would use it against me to get to him.

She had dragged me along with her, following our faint bond thousands of times only to wind up empty-handed. Her fury and frustration wrested upon me, carried out on my flesh and in my hunger while Peter had always prided himself in protecting me— keeping my skin free of the venom-filled scars that decorated his own flesh. He had constantly thrown himself in harm's way for me, taking the worst upon himself to shield me.

Our bond had winked out of existence the day Peter gave up on finding me alive. Like me, Maria had initially assumed that Peter had met his final end … until a new bond hummed to life inside Maria's head. She had clutched Peter's pocket watch—the essence she used to track him—close to her chest as she let out a maniacal cackle.

Now I carry the marks of Maria's furry and the humiliation of her discovery. _Peter isn't my mate_. I would trade a thousand bite marks and the searing pain that accompanies them to regain the last shred of dignity Maria has stripped from me.

It isn't the realization that I'm not Peter's mate that hurts. It's having it thrown in my face at every turn. Maria may be a deadly fighter, but it's her tongue that lashes through you to the core of your very being.

_I can't wait for that bitch to be dead._

The only thing I can do to help in that endeavor is to try to offer Peter some backup. It's my tenth attempt to delve into Irina's head to suggest that she leave. She seems simple-minded enough to at least consider my suggestions, but her current state of panic has thrown up a brick wall to her subconscious. Esme is already doing her best to dispel the situation. Planting thoughts that likely mirror her own will be a waste of time. As for her son, I don't dare try anything with Edward. He'll sense my intrusion and likely throw a hissy fit. I normally keep the memory of the Southern Wars bloodiest battles on repeat to keep him out of my thoughts. In this instance though, letting him inside my head might be the distraction I need to catch Irina off guard.

I stare at him through the doorway, for once making no attempt to shield my thoughts. He eyes me using his periphery. He's already wary.

_Just walk away, Edward. They'll follow suit._

I push my thoughts toward him. It's easier with his gift to tell when the message takes root. Edward straightens and turns toward me, a haughty glare in his eyes.

Thankfully his gift doesn't work both ways. _He can snatch thoughts from my brain, but he can't implant them there_, I think with a grin.

"If it were that easy, don't you think I would have _tried it_ _already_?" Exasperation is evident in the tone of his voice.

Edward's answer to an unspoken question causes the momentary confusion that I need. Irina stops spewing her venom long enough to ponder Edward's words and the possible meaning behind them.

That's when I hear it, a shuffling sound of clumsy feat scurrying on the hardwood floor. I turn to find the decapitated blond's body searching for his head.

"Oh no you don't." I duck beneath his groping hands to pluck his own head from his grasp. Without a second thought, I dropkick the offensive thing right through the open doorway. It rolls to a stop directly in front of the wolves.

This distraction proves much more effective than any suggestion I could have planted. The wolves simultaneously pounce on the vampire's head, causing growls and yelps to erupt. The head is tossed about, bouncing off of their padded paws. Irina is momentarily stunned by her comrade's head making an appearance without his body attached to it. Edward thankfully takes her moment of distraction and wrenches her away from the wolves' scuffle. Esme follows easily in-step behind her son and cousin.

I take a moment to glance back at the remains of the blond male. He's now groping along the walls of the small room, slowly making his way to the door. I duck underneath him and into the basement to find the other half of my right hand lying in a pool of Bella's blood.

_Peter will never forgive me if she doesn't pull through this._

I tug a lighter from my pocket and swing the top open. A butane flame ignites. Walking up the stairs and over to the headless buffoon, I drop the lighter into his shirt pocket.

Flames lick up his chest, blackening his flesh and disintegrating his clothing. He falls to the floor, writhing in pain as he's consumed by red and orange, tipped with blue.

I don't have much time before the whole house will go up in flames. I take to the stairs, opening the same window that Peter and Jasper flew through only seven minutes ago. Leaping to a tree, I pick up the retreating scents of Edward, Esme, and Irina.

There are several vampires' trails weaving through the forest around me. I pick the one most likely to be the truest course. In the distance, plumes of purple smoke waft into the air.

_A good sign_.

**Peter's Point of View**

I'm heading toward the rocks and sand below at a creeping pace. I can run at three times the speed I'm falling, which gives me too much time to consider how much it'll fucking hurt when I land.

I grit my teeth against the pain I know that's coming, but it's more than I anticipated. Every nerve ending is frayed and blazing with fire. Surprisingly, I've managed to remain mostly intact. My whole left side feels as though it's sitting in a bed of hot coals. My left arm is broken at the elbow and basically shattered into shards of jagged stone below that. My left cheek is splintered and my jaw is shifted a full two inches to the side. Basically, if I were an atomic bomb, my left side would be ground zero while the rest of me deals with the aftershock. For the time being, my entire left side is a useless pile of rock.

Still, I can already feel the venom healing my wounds, searing my nerve endings back together and reconnecting my bones and muscles. The healing process is nearly as painful as the landing. It will be precious minutes before I'm able to rise—precious minutes that I _don't have_.

A group of fisherman has gathered to bear witness to my stupidity. _I swear to God, if anyone one of them touches me_ …

"Cut!" Alice calls from somewhere in the distance.

So she already has a cover-up plan firmly in place, but couldn't warn me not to overshoot the waterfall_? _She's probably enjoying the hell out of this—me, broken on the beach dependent on her little ruse to work. I might as well lay back and enjoy the show. _This ought to be good_.

"Jasper, Emmett, go get the one that went out to see before we lose her."

A few moments later, Alice comes bounding up toward me, panting like an out of breath human and flinging layers of sand over my broken body.

"Don't touch my dummy," she nearly screams at the men around my remains, "he has electrical components and we're not insured. I'm not paying anyone's medical bills!"

"Stay down if you know what's good for you," she mutters in a pitch lower than human ears can detect.

Alice hovers over me as she assesses the damage to her "dummy". To the human eye, it probably looks like she's cataloging my parts. In actuality, she's helping to put me back together by lining up my left arm properly and shifting my jaw—_son-of-a-mother-fucking-goat that shit hurts_—painfully back into place.

"You guys want to see the footage?"

Alice's voice is full of excitement and her request is immediately met by grunts of approvals and a few 'hell yeahs' from the locals.

"Now where did I put my cam?" Her voice grows more distant and shuffling feet begin kicking up the sand around me. I try to remain silent, but what I really want to do is grab the closest fucker's leg and wrench it out from under them. It's always fun hearing burly macho-men squeal like little girls.

"Shit! I think I dropped it in my hurry to get down here."

_That's right_, Alice, _lead them_ away _from me_.

"We'll find it, don't worry," I confident voice replies.

"Really?" Alice's voice is full of sentiment and flirty undertones._ I wouldn't fall for that demented little sprite. _Somehow,I'm not surprised when I hear the pounding hearts and shuffling feet retreating.

As I twist my head, pain radiates through my jaw. I catch a glimpse of the last fisherman disappearing into the brush at the base of the mountain. I wonder how long it will take them to realize they are searching for something they'll never find?

Lifting my right arm, I test the alignment of my jawbone, shifting it slightly to the left to hear an audible pop. I lie back in the sand and roll to my back, noticing that the pain has subsided to no more than a dull ache that pulsates across my left side.

Healed or not, I can't waste any more time. I crawl on hands and knees to the water that will carry me out to sea—out to Maria. The cool temperature has an invigorating effect on me, numbing my frayed nerves and renewing my energy. Remarkably, it seems to clear my head.

_Maria. She's out there somewhere._

I let the water's flow take me away, occasionally kicking off of the rocky bottom to keep myself from sinking. After all, rocks don't float. Thankfully, though, this rock is an excellent swimmer.

As I drift, I test my muscles, tightening relaxing them. I roll my shoulders and flex my knees. Everything seems to be in order.

The fresh water merges with the salt of the ocean and the water darkens to a deep murky blue beneath the surface. The temperature drops just as the ocean's bottom drops out from beneath me. It's not long before my eyes hone in on my prize struggling and thrashing in Emmett's and Jasper's grasp.

My lips curl up in a smile of vengeance. _They've left her alive for me._

Maria's attempts to break free cease when her eyes find mine. She seems resigned in her fate. That's something I can't have. What fun is the kill if they don't fight you back? No. I won't have it.

I leisurely swim to the depths of the sea where the trio waits for me. I stare down at Maria as my feet meet the Pacific Ocean's sandy bottom. Her hair fans out in a canopy of black and in the little light that reaches these depths, her eyes appear almost the same shade as her hair. Black. Hungry. Hungry for death.

She flinches when I reach out to run a finger along the curve of her cheek and down to her neck. With my right hand, I wrench her head to the side to expose her neck. She doesn't even resist. Instead, she eyes me warily out of the corner of her vision, watching as I lower my teeth to her throat. Teasingly, I nip at her flesh, grazing my teeth back and forth across her skin.

There's nothing sensual about this. No. This is about the power I have over her now—the power she's always loved demonstrating over others. Now her life is in _my_ hands. It's _my_ choice on not only if she dies, but how.

_This is just too easy._

I glance at Emmett and jerk my head a fraction of an inch to the left, commanding him to release Maria. He looks at me dumbfounded, but I continue to stare him straight in the eyes. Reluctantly, he lets go and not a moment later, Jasper does the same.

Jasper knows the inside of my head better than most. He knows this isn't the way I want things to go down. Maria needs hope before she dies. I'll give her that little optimism before taking it all away.

I won't be satisfied until she meets her end with a look of panic painted across her features.

It takes Maria three full seconds to realize she's free before she takes off toward the shoreline. I know what she's thinking—make it to shore and she'll have her escape. I wouldn't dare risk the exposure. It would mean too many bodies for me to dispose of. I'll let her think what she wants. Hell, I even let her have a head start.

I take off after her fading form. I can tell this is a last act of desperation. She's not trying to throw me off. Instead, she's taking the most direct route possible to her supposed freedom.

I'm four feet behind her when she surfaces. As I rise out of the water, I see the moment of horror as her eyes canvas the empty beach. How ironic it is that in her final moments, she looks for salvation in what she had always viewed as the lowest of low—the humans she's treated like cattle for her entire existence.

Wrapping my left arm around her waist and my right hand around her mouth, I hold her shaking body to mine as the water rolls off of us. Without another moment of hesitation, I sink my teeth into her salty flesh and rip them free.

Her body topples forward as her head flies to the right. Black tendrils of sea-soaked hair whip around her face before landing on the sandy bank. I smile as I look down at the expression permanently etched into her lifeless features. Fear. Desperation. Hopelessness.

_This_ is how she deserves to meet her final end. A thrill of satisfaction runs through me, but it is short-lived.

I search the cliffs to find a pair of ruby eyes boring into mine. Charlotte. Even from this distance, I can see the blood of my mate staining her flesh and matting her hair. The sight of her brings forth so many emotions and even more unanswered questions. Specifically, the question that matters the most and the thought that drives my very existence.

Bella.


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry this was a little later getting out than I anticipated. This chapter was really really a bitch to write. I hope that the emotion comes through the way I intended in to.**

**On another note, I'm not sure how many chapters of this story will be left. Thank you for all the reviews, alerts, and favorites. I am truly overwhelmed!  
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**This chapter is un-beta'd. All mistakes are my own.  
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**With that, enjoy!  
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><p><strong>Cleansing Fire<strong>

**Bella's Point of View**

I wake to the twin ache of my shoulders. The pain is dull and throbbing and my arms feel cold and numb. I try to move, but that turns out to be a big mistake. Any small movement sends a burning ache through my shoulders. I hiss, inhaling sharply. The stench around me—a mixture of human filth and burnt flesh—makes my stomach clench. Reluctantly, I open my eyes.

It takes a moment to focus in the dim light. Somewhere in the distance a flame flickers, casting the room in browns and reds. A rough, stone floor takes shape beneath me. Stone archways perch atop iron bars. I'm in a … _dungeon_?

_Aw, hell no. Not another crazy-ass dream._

Momentarily forgetting the pain, I struggle against my restraints. I look up to find I'm suspended from two rusty, metal manacles. My shoulders ache from the constant stretch of bearing the majority of my body weight. I can barely reach the floor, but when I do, the throbbing in my shoulders momentarily subsides. Still, I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before the arches of my bare feet will scream at me for their own relief.

_Well, I'm not waiting for that to happen. I'm waking the fuck up. Screw this._

I close my eyes and focus on the noises around me. On the surface, there's the occasional drip of water and light scratching noises that echo over the stone floor. I go beyond, searching for the ever-present beeping noise that signifies my reality. If I can only find it and focus on it, maybe I can pull myself out of what I can only expect to be some crazy nightmare.

"Isabella," a ragged voice pleads.

Immediately my head whips to the right. It's a voice that I would know anywhere whether awake or dreaming.

"Peter? What the … what are you doing here?" _Why the hell do I suddenly have an English accent? Wait, did Peter call me Isabella? What the fuck?_

My eyes take in his disheveled appearance. His hair is long and ragged, matted with sweat and shielding me from a view of his eyes. I'm not sure whether it's a trick of the light, but his skin looks _tan_. Not only that, but he's been beaten. Open wounds litter his bare chest and arms, seeping with blood. His torso hangs away from the stone wall in an awkward position. He raises his head with much effort.

"You know very well why we are here, my darling. She wants us." Peter momentarily meets my gaze before letting his head drop back to his chest.

"You're not making any sense, Peter. Who are you talking about?"

Somewhere in the distance, a door creaks open. It's the kind of noise only heard in movies—forebodingly ominous. Loud, booted footsteps echo throughout the room. Peter hastily straightens his posture causing him much pain to do so. _He's scared._

The footsteps become louder—_closer_. I'm not sure if this person is walking around in circles to heighten the dramatic effect, but it's taking them _forever_ to get here.

Finally, a figure completely concealed under a deep, black cloak appears from around the corner. It stands motionless yet elegant—entirely out of place given our surroundings. Slender hands separate the velvet material and slowly reach up to the hood of the cloak. In one smooth motion, the hood flips back to reveal … _Charlotte_.

I gasp in shock at just how menacing and lovely she looks all at the same time. Her bright, red eyes seem to glow in the fire's light. Her blonde curls look like coils of fine, gold thread contrasting beautifully against the black of her cloak. Her face is the same flawless alabaster of my memories, and her lips a blood-tinged red.

Her smile is heart-stopping—provoking fear and hunger. She takes a step toward Peter and _I _have to stop _myself_ from growling. Her arm, sleeved in icy, blue silk, reaches for him. Delicately, she runs a finger along Peter's jawline and down his neck. Tremors run through him with her touch.

"What are you doing to him?"

_Leave it to me to open my mouth when I should really just shut the fuck up._

"Making him tremble with want, of course." Her gaze focuses on me while her hand never breaks contact with Peter's skin.

I know I should feel jealous, angry, repulsed, or ... something _other _than what I'm feeling.

"Don't worry. You will have your turn soon enough."

With her whispered promise, my knees give out beneath me. My whole body begins to quake with a mixture of pain and anticipation. For some reason, my eyes can't seem to focus. The whole world is reduced to muddy grey with muted sounds and scents. I remain is this semi-coherent state until I feel her touch.

As I expect, it's ice cold. But instead of the paralyzing fear I should be feeling—instead of the warning bells that signal I should try everything in my power to get the fuck out of here—my body hums with _pleasure_. In the sweat-inducing heat of the dungeon, the temperature of her skin alone is like a cool drink of water. Goose-flesh spreads in the wake of her touch—invigorating and revitalizing. Underneath the cooling effect, is a burning heat blossoming deep within my belly.

I find myself curling into her caresses like a cat, craving her attentions_. I'm surprised I'm not fucking purring_. The haze in front of my vision clears only to find Charlotte's face inches from mine, lips parted. I gasp in shock. _Is she really …?_

Before I can finish the thought, her lips meet mine, cool and as sweet as honey. Honey, yes, she tastes like the sun. Soft and bright. Gentle and yielding. I struggle in vain against the shackles, trying to break free from my restraints so I can run my fingers through her golden hair—so I can take hold of her and pull her in.

My mind can barely think to register anything else, until something catches Charlotte's attention, pulling her mouth from mine. My body yearns for renewed contact, feeling the sudden loss of her touch. Charlotte's eyes turn upward, glinting silver in the light. She stands at her full height and leans into me, pressing her body to mine. For a moment, I'm overwhelmed at the contact—a caress of silk against my bare skin— until I feel something cool running along the length of my arm and up to my wrist.

_She's going to set free me!_

I wiggle and twist in an attempt to see what she's doing.

In my effort to break free from my restraints, I've reopened the newly healed wounds around my wrists. Charlotte's licking the blood that trickles down my arms. I watch, fascinated as the lines of red on my skin disappear with each pass she makes. Even more surprising, is that the wounds are healing right before my eyes.

Charlotte pulls away and her lips are covered in my own blood. She smiles at my devilishly.

"Oh. You do taste good," she utters with a look of satisfaction. "How were you ever able to resist?"

Charlotte looks over her shoulder to a very different Peter. He stands tall—no evidence of his recent wounds or battered condition. His hair now falls in loose brown waves to his shoulders. His eyes pierce through my own with his blood-hungry gaze.

"Peter?" The question on my lips is both fearful and hopeful. Hopeful, because I see him restored. Fearful, as he's looking at me as if I'm something to eat—_and not in a good way_.

Still, my eyes drink him in. He's confidence embodied. I watch him as he gracefully strides closer to us, my neck craning over Charlotte's shoulder to get a better look at him.

That's when it happens. I feel the slice of her teeth into my flesh and the powerful pull of her thirst. My screams are joined by Peter's laughter. I struggle to push away, but my arms are still restrained. I feel my strength being drained along with my life-force. I know there's no point in resisting.

Slowly, the sound of Peter's laughter fades away and is replaced by the frantic beeping. I grasp hold of the sound, frantically clawing away at the confines of my subconscious to break free to reality.

The smell of human filth remains, but beyond it is the chemical scent of the hospital. Slowly, my eyes flutter open, squinting against the bright, white light.

A chubby woman with blush on her already rosy cheeks comes into view.

"Betty?" My voice is all scratchy.

She breathes a sigh of relief.

"Honey, if I hadn't already gone through your chart, I'd think you were floating on the wings of Lunesta."

"Am I supposed to know what that means?"

She chuckles under her breath. "It _means_ you were riding out a morphine-induced dream." She pauses, waiting for my reaction.

"I didn't … _say anything_, did I?" I squeak, probably turning an unnatural shade of red. I'd woken Charlie up more than a few times with my crazy, late-night ramblings.

"Oh, you said enough to make me want to dive right into that dream with you. Well, at least until the point when you started screaming and thrashing. I was about to page Dr. Cullen when you came out of it." She shook her head and placed her warm hand over my own. "We've been sick with worry since we heard about what happened. You gave everyone quite a scare."

I try to smile, but I'm sure it comes out as more of a grimace. There are too many unanswered questions. Peter, Charlotte, the others—I have to know they're alive. I concentrate on the pull in my chest, focusing on the subtle ache. It's faint, but it's there, and I hang onto that little hope with a vice grip. I look down at Betty's hand on top of mine and find both my wrists are bound to a bedrail, held in place by a padded Velcro cuff. I shiver passes through me as I recall my recent dream.

"Is … is there a wound on my neck?" I try to gesture with my eyes to the side of my neck Charlotte fed from. Betty shakes her head. I realize how ridiculous it is that I even asked. Of course Charlotte didn't bite me. If she had, I'd be dead or … _undead_.

"No. There's just the two shoulder wounds. You're a bionic woman now."

"What do you mean, 'bionic woman'?"

"Titanium shoulder," she answers, gesturing toward my left shoulder.

I strain my head to the left to have a look. I halfway expect to see some Terminator-looking metal with bolts and circuitry, but instead I find the crisp white of gauze held in place by surgical tape.

"Has anyone come to see me?"

Betty looks appalled. "_'Has anyone come,'_ Lordy, girl. There's practically been a waiting line. And why didn't you tell me anything about the hunky Janitor? He's been loitering around here both on and off of his shift. I think he mopped the floor outside your door twenty times yesterday alone." She looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to gush.

I can't help the smile that comes to my face at the overwhelming relief to here that Peter's all right.

"That's Peter. We had just started seeing each other before all of this."

"Mmm hmm. I see how it is. Holding out of me, are you? Well, hold onto that one, sweetie. He's one _fine_ piece of man." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, causing another wave of heat to flood my cheeks. "You want me to send your dad in? The Police Chief's been wearing a rut in the floor. He's worried sick about you. Oh, he's such a sweet man. And you mother …" Betty's voice trails off in question.

"Is she here?"

That certainly seems out of character. Since when did Renee start to give two shits about her only daughter?

"Oh. No, dear. I'm sorry. What I meant was … oh, never mind." With an anxious wave of her hand she turns to head for the door. "I'll just go get your father."

My pulse quickens, echoed by the heart monitor. "Hold on, Betty. Um … can I talk to Dr. Cullen first?"

"Sure, honey. Did you need something? If you're in pain, just push that little red button there by your hand. You'll get a nice wave of happy to take it all away." Her brow scrunches and her lower lip juts out as she contemplates something. "On second thought, maybe you should hold off on the morphine for now. Those dreams seemed to be taking a turn for the worse and we don't want you injuring yourself. I'll go get the doctor." Betty flashes a quick smile before she shuts the door behind her.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. There's so much I need to get straight in my head before Charlie comes in here. My father I can deal with, but not the Police Chief. He'll ask too many questions that I don't have the answers to.

I look up at the sound of the door opening.

"Peter." I can't help but to reach out to him. When I do, I wince with pain. My heart sings at the sight of him. It feels like it's been so long since I've seen him—the real him, at least. My dreams haven't done Peter justice. My subconscious had failed to capture the real color of his hair, the texture of his skin, and the depth of his gaze. He's wearing his janitor's uniform, and the sight of it alone brings back so many memories. Why does it feel like a century ago instead of just over two weeks? Has it been more than two weeks? I realize I have no idea how many days I've spent in this hospital bed.

Peter flashes me a smile before walking over to the blinds and closing them. I admire his assets as he does so. I can't help myself. With the blinds now closed, he uses him vampire speed and reappears at my side, his cold hand gripping mine as he takes in my appearance.

His eyes travel up and down my body in a way that is anything but sexual. He's taking inventory, making sure I'm in one piece—cataloguing the damage.

I sigh, just reveling in the closeness of him, drinking in his scent of cloves and cinnamon—finally feeling more at ease than I have in quite some time. I may be damaged, but until this moment I haven't been whole. Even in my current state, everything seems right in the world because _he_ is here.

"I've missed you." The words tumble from my lips as I hold back tears of relief—tears that I hadn't let fall. The fears that I've held back while clinging to the hope of what the ache in my chest signifies—knowing that if that ache were to cease that a part of me would die along with it.

His expression is pained. "I've missed you more than words, my belle."

He leans down and presses his cool lips to mine as his fingers ghost up my arm and across my face—never breaking the skin to skin contact. I'm thankful for it, because I need to feel his touch—I need his strength for the next question I have to ask.

"Did everyone make it?" He pulls back to look at me. I look into his eyes for a reaction to my question. That's when I see it, the tiny crinkle at the corner of his eyes before his mouth curls up into a smug smirk.

"Everyone's fine."

"Even the wolves?"

Peter kicks up a chair and eases himself into it by my side, his hand never leaving mine. "Yes, even the wolves. Maria led us on quite a goose chase. It's awfully hard to chase somethin' ya can't see or hear, all while only occasionally getting' a whiff of 'em. Once we managed to separate Maria for her little pet, he was easy pickin's. She, on the other hand, proved herself to be the slippery bitch I knew 'er for. She dove headlong off of a cliff face overlookin' a beach full of humans. O' course, I went right along after 'er. Jasper and Em caught up with 'er as she was tryin' to make a run fer it. They held her fer me at the bottom of the ocean … and that's when I let 'er go." He pauses with a smile on his face.

"You let her go?" A cold chill runs up my spine at the thought.

"Oh, I caught back up with 'er. It's just no fun when they're ready to die. I wanted 'er kickin' and screamin' till the end."

"So she is dead, right?"

"She's nothing more than ash, sprinkled across the ocean. I let Jasper do the honors of burning her body. Even as a vampire he's always loved fire. It's one of the very few things we are vulnerable to. He once told me that fire was cleansin', even for us. That if our endless life spiraled out of control, and we had no more hope or reason left for livin', that fire was the one thing that could engulf us."

His words resonate deep within in me. _Even as a vampire, there's a way out of this life._ There is an end to all things, if you search for one.

It brings a thought to mind. There's something that I need to know. The heart monitor begins to beep faster. I feel like scowling at it even though I know it's pointless. Peter can hear my heartbeat just fine without its artificial echo. Still, I wish I could have at least the appearance of calm when I ask my next question.

"How—how is Charlotte? Has she left? I mean, does she have anywhere to go?"

Peter's eyes drop from mine as he turns around. "Charlotte is still here. She's been stayin' with the Cullens. She wanted to wait till you woke up to make sure you were all right. After all, she's the reason yer here." Peter's words turn harsh as he forces out the last sentence.

"You blame her for this?" I look incredulously at him.

He turns back around to face me. "No. Those are her words, not mine. I don't blame her … I blame myself."

_What the fuck?_ "You can't blame yourself for this, Peter. It was _Maria_ the whole time. It's _always_ been Maria. She's used you, Charlotte, Adolpho, Jasper, and probably everyone else she's come into contact with in her lifetime! You can't blame yourself for what you didn't know."

"You know, I guess I was wrong." Peter pauses to laugh. "You an' Charlotte are more alike than I thought. She said pretty much the same damned thing."

Jealousy flares to life. It's difficult being compared to someone you'll never measure up to. That's to say nothing of her beauty, though I'm nothing in comparison there as well. No. Charlotte had selflessly tried to protect me against Maria, knowing she would face Maria's fury for it in the end. Still, she would risk her life for the very person who took her love away from her. It's something I don't think I'm capable of. _I _can't get over the jealous feelings just wondering what he's been talking to her about while I've been stuck in here.

Peter just stares at me, making me wonder if he can see the thoughts running through my head as easily as Edward can.

"What will she do now that Maria's dead?" I ask the question to divert Peter's attention from my inner turmoil.

"We've talked about it some, and she's thinkin' about doin' a bit of travelin'. Alice said she thought Charlotte would enjoy herself in Europe, addin' that she should spend some extra time in Ireland."

"Alice thinks she'll find her mate?" I ask, hopeful.

"I think that's the gist of it, in no certain words. If ya know Alice, she's never straight forward. She's always been one cryptic little pixy."

"I hope she's right for Charlotte's sake. She deserves her happily ever after given all that she's been through." Sure, Charlotte finding her mate would help relieve some of the guilt I feel for taking Peter, but I don't want this for her for my own selfish reasons. She, of all people, really deserves happiness.

"You know, she feels the same way … but fer me." Peter waits until he's sure he has my attention before continuing. "She just wants me to be happy, Bella. She knows that you are my happiness, and I want that same happiness for her too. It's easier to understand when you turn the tables."

The thing is, I _can't_ understand it. Just the thought of losing him is too much to bear. Couple that with him leaving me for someone else, and any happiness I could feel would be swallowed up by my own sorrow. The notion alone has tears brimming in my eyes.

"No, Peter. I _don't _understand. Call me selfish, jealous, petty, or all of those things combined, but I would be nothing more than an empty shell if you left me."

Peter shakes his head before I finish my tear-filled rant, grasping my face in his strong hands.

"Bella. Bella, look at me. The love I had for her is _nothin'_ in comparison to the love that I feel for you. If you were to leave me, well, I'd gladly walk into the fire. The love between mates in all-consumin', just like a fire—nothing burns brighter in this life. Do ya know how often I've fought with the urge to kill Jacob Black? Just knowin' that fer a short time he had yer love is enough to make me hate 'im."

"Peter, please don't kill Jake. What we had was …"

"Puppy love?" He finishes for me with a smile.

"Yeah. Something like that." I laugh. "It was nothing compared to the love I feel for you," I say in all seriousness.

"Exactly."

He smiles, and suddenly it all clicks into place—that Peter is my forever, and nothing before him matters.

"Just get your ass over here and kiss me, Peter."

He laughs and immediately obliges. I would like nothing more to be able to wrap my arms around his neck to pull him closer to deepen his feather-light kiss. Visions of gold-spun curls and the taste of sunflowers and honey leap from my subconscious, causing a blush to spread across my cheeks. Peter picks up on my sudden hesitance and pulls away with a look of concern on his face.

"What's wrong? I didn't hurt ya, did I?"

_No. I'm just remembering how soft your ex's lips felt on mine_, I think, turning a deeper shade of red_._ "No. I'm okay," I finally sputter out.

For all of our awkward times in the past, Dr. Cullen finally picks a good time to walk in on our conversation, saving me from a very embarrassing explanation.

"How are you feeling Miss Swan?" Dr. Cullen smiles up at me from the chart in his hand.

"Not too bad, all things considered."

"Excellent. We'll start the process of weaning you off of the morphine. Now, I hear you have some questions for me?"

"Yes. How the hell am I going to explain everything that happened to my dad?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Subterfuge**

**Peter's Point of View**

"Human trafficking? That's what you've come up with?" Bella's eyebrows shoot up in disbelief.

"Do you have any better ideas?" I hedge. It doesn't take a mind reader to see she has doubts, but the Cullens have already been busy planting the necessary details to make the scenario come together. Alice says this is the only idea the Police Chief can't disprove.

Scratch that. It's the only idea that the Police Chief can't disprove _and_ doesn't have him snooping into my past. Rose brought up the 'jealous ex kidnaps the current girlfriend' scenario, which was readily accepted by the Police Chief, but also had him doing background checks and pulling up several birth certificates that I couldn't explain.

"No," Bella answers like a petulant child after a long pause, her brow furrowing in a scowl. "I still don't understand how Charlie will buy it. Forks isn't a border town, and I'm not some cute teenage girl from another country."

I'm about to object to the 'cute' part, when Carlisle cuts in.

"There are several forms of human trafficking in the state of Washington. You are correct in assuming that the majority of victims are immigrants from other countries, but that is not always the case."

"Okay. I'm listening."

Over the last fifty-two hours, I learned more than I ever wanted about human trafficking. I would have never guessed that Washington is a hot spot for forced labor. It's numerous ports, proximity to Canada, and largely rural, unpopulated territory makes the state a haven for this type of modern-day slavery.

"We already know that your father will use every resource available to him to uncover every detail he can about your kidnapping. Our alibi must be air-tight. Emmett, Jasper, and Edward have been in Seattle, working to find our scapegoats. Our story is that your captors were dealing in methamphetamines and under-aged, forced prostitution."

"Wait a second. What do you mean they're finding scapegoats? I don't want anyone to go to jail, or worse, because of me."

Bella fidgets with her arms, struggling against her restraints. I hate seeing her tied up like this, knowing that if I had only gotten to her sooner, she wouldn't be here in this hospital. Still, the determined look on her face makes me beam with pride. She's a fighter, my belle.

Carlisle struggles to find an appropriate response to her argument. It's not surprising. He had been staunchly against the idea of purging Seattle of a couple of drug dealers and a handful of strung-out teens. As the patriarch of his little family, the boys had to agree to only bring back the recently deceased scum of the earth. That only left Jasper and crew a short window of opportunity to find the dead bodies before the Seattle authorities did. Imagine the look of surprise on Carlisle's face when they showed up with five dead bodies in tow that fit the bill of two ring-leaders and three teen prostitutes. Carlisle had been immediately suspicious and examined the bodies closely to see if his sons had kept their word.

It turns out that, even in this new life of his in this "family," Jasper has still maintained some redeeming qualities. His human connections to the criminal underbelly of the world allowed him to arrange for a couple of the victims to get a bad batch of heroine, and a few more to get caught in the cross-fire of rival gangs. The last of the victims Carlisle examined had been a lucky find. Jasper had no hand in her demise. She was the victim of a patron of the night who wasn't interested in paying for her services. In the end, he just killed her and took his money back. Carlisle was most suspicious of this death at first, but after studying the ligature marks on her neck and finding various sources of human DNA on her, he conceded. There was nothing about the deaths of the five humans from Seattle that pointed to vampire involvement.

"Bella, we have already planted the bodies of five humans in the basement of the house where you were being held. Chemical residue has been placed on their clothing and the structure has been set ablaze."

Bella's eyes go wide as Carlisle's words sink in.

"Before you object, I must inform you that the humans were already dead when we found them. No one was harmed to create this alibi."

The hint of doubt in Carlisle's voice is evident to me. I wonder if Bella will pick up on it.

"No one was harmed?" she repeats, needing confirmation.

"No. Now, I have some files here of the deceased humans. You will need to commit them to memory." Carlisle takes a step forward and pulls the files out of Bella's medical chart, flipping through the files for her to see. "This male and female here bare a slight resemblance to Maria and Adolpho. I will confirm with your father that you are still under the effects of the morphine to help explain any inconsistencies. For now, just try to remember their face, build, and approximate height." Carlisle quickly shuffles through three more pictures, the last of which was taken postmortem. "Here are the three girls."

Bella winces, gesturing to the last image. "What happened to her?"

"Do ya want the story you'll tell, or the truth?" It's my turn to interject. Carlisle tends to go all clinical when he's uncomfortable, and we don't need Bella confused with all that medical jargon.

"Both."

"She was a prostitute who got in a car with the wrong guy. He strangled 'er and took all 'er money." Bella swallows and blinks a few times before signaling me to continue. "The story you'll tell is that she was sick, and you were asked to treat 'er. Some of the girls had recently taken ill 'cause of the fumes from the meth lab they also ran. It was a major risk, them comin' into a hospital. Yer uniform and yer proximity to the door was the reason you were taken. They assumed you were a nurse. Once they discovered that ya had no medical background, they decided to keep ya as another one of their prostitutes. Only, since ya would be more recognizable than yer counterparts, they were plannin' on fleein' the country to Canada."

"So I was taken because they thought I was a nurse. Once they found out that I wasn't, they decided to keep me as a prostitute," Bella repeats, committing it to memory.

"That's right."

"What if Charlie has questions that I can't answer?"

"When it fits, always go with the truth. You'll tell 'im you were held in the basement with another girl. You can tell 'im that she was near death when she was thrown down there. That's all true."

"Di—did you find out who the girl was? The one that Charlotte drained?"

My grip on the chair's arm rests tighten until the metal groans. I can't help my reaction. No, I'm not mad at Charlotte. She was starved and abused by Maria for twenty-two years in my absence. I'm furious at Maria for taunting Charlotte with fresh blood, knowing full and well that the feeding frenzy would take over. If Jacob Black hadn't intervened, Bella would be dead, drained by Charlotte. And I know, even though she wouldn't deserve it, that I would hate Charlotte till the end of eternity for taking the life of my mate. I have to shake away my thoughts and get back to reality—the reality where my belle _is_ alive.

Carlisle produces the last file from his folder. There's a picture held in place by a paper clip. Bella's eyes hone in on the image. Her eyes glaze over like Alice's for a moment, and I wonder what she's really seeing. Bella looks away, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to hold back the tears that are brimming in her eyes.

"This is Nancy Garza. She was reported as a missing person from her home in Sappho, Washington the day before you were taken," Carlisle states in a calming voice. At this point, a vibration rings out across the room. Carlisle pulls back his lab coat and produces a cell phone.

"It's Rosalie. Your father is on his way to your room. They could not delay him any further. Our story is that a fire broke out in the house, starting on the first floor. You were able to exit the basement through a window and make your escape. Unfortunately, the other girl in the basement was already deceased. No one ever told you their name besides Nancy." Carlisle rushes out the story that Bella will tell.

He turns to me. "Peter, go into the bathroom. The adjoining room shares this bathroom. Once Bella's father enters her room, you will be able to exit the adjoining room without being seen."

I nod and slip into the bathroom silently. It's no more than a minute before the door opens and Chief Swan enters the room.

"Oh my God, Bella. I was so worried."

I smile, hearing the level of concern and love evident in his voice. Squeaky boots shuffle across the floor and the metal legs of a chair slide noisily across the linoleum flooring.

"Dad, I'm all right. A little dizzy and hurting, but okay."

"The dizziness is due to the morphine still in her system. She will be a little more aware of the pain for some time, but more coherent without the morphine. Now, unless either of you have any questions, I will take my leave."

"Uh, hold up, Doc. How long until she's released?"

"I cannot say for sure. It will at least be a week. Tomorrow, she will begin physical and occupational therapy to teach her how to safely get in and out of bed with her injuries. Miss Swan will then be released to go home where she will be required to attend outpatient therapy until fully recovered."

"So … this will heal _completely_," Bella asks, needing confirmation.

"Yes. At your age, Miss Swan, you will likely regain full range of motion in both shoulders."

"Thank you, doctor. For everything." I can tell from the gruffness in his voice that the Chief isn't used to showing his appreciation.

"You are most welcome, Chief Swan. We take care of our own here at Forks General."

_Carlisle always did know how to throw on the charm._ Making more noise than necessary, Dr. Cullen exits the room. With the click of the door shutting, Bella's heart beat begins to elevate.

"Bella, are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm okay. I just … well, I know you have a lot of questions, and I'm not sure I'm ready to answer them." Bella's voice cracks at the end of her statement. The emotion behind it is real. I have to keep myself from bolting out of the bathroom and running to her side. That certainly wouldn't make a good impression with the Chief.

"Shhh. Bella, it's okay. I … you … _of course_ I want answers, but that can wait … a little bit. I—I just can't stand knowing that whoever did this to you is still out there."

"That's just it, Dad. They're not. They're all dead." The lack of emotion in her tone runs a chill up my dead spine.

"What hap—no. _No_. I told you I would give you time." The Chief sighs. "How about this. Just tell me what you want to tell me. I mean, I hear it's good to do that. To, you know, get things off your chest."

Bella chuckles and then sighs. "I'm don't know where to begin, Dad."

"The beginning is usually a good place."

It takes a while before Bella speaks. "I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. That's usually how things go for me. You know that better than I do."

"You're telling me, kid." Charlie chuckles.

"I—I got to work a little early that day. I was meeting Ang there … er here. She was thinking about volunteering. I was just about to start my shift, when my phone rang. The reception sucks in the hospital, so I walked over to the entrance. Like I said, the wrong place at the wrong time. They came and and just … _took_ me."

"Did they tell you their names?"

"No. Never. Uh, shouldn't you be writing this down or something?"

"I don't think I'm gonna have trouble remembering." The Chief's voice cracks at the end like he's forcing back tears—angry tears.

"Dad. I can't do this if you're gonna … _cry_. You're going make me cry, too." She isn't lying either. Bella starts sniffling and her voice begins to waver.

"Okay. All right. I'm okay."

"I don't remember where I left off."

"You left off with them taking you. You said you didn't know their names. Can you at least tell me what they look like?"

"Things are a little bit … fuzzy." Damn, she's a bad liar. "It was a man and a woman. Both had dark hair. The male was tall, and the woman was shortish. I could probably pick them out in a line-up, but … yeah, that's not going to happen."

"Do you remember their vehicle? Did you happen to get a license plate."

I hear Bella curse under her breath. "I should have thought about that." She pauses. "I can tell you the make and model, though. It was a silver Chevy Malibu."

"That's good, Bells. That's a nice detail. Was there anything else about the car you remember? Anything that would help identify it? A missing bumper or something like that?"

"You mean like the big blood stain on the back floorboard?" Bella's voice sounds oddly detached. I fear I haven't taken the time to consider the mental and emotional damage she's suffered during her time with Maria. I've been so worried with her physical wounds when they are the ones that will heal.

It takes several minutes for the Chief to respond. "Yeah. That'll help," he replies stiffly.

"Can we pick this up later, Dad. I'm tired." I hear what can only be described as an over dramatic yawn.

"After sleeping for over three days?" The Chief jokes.

"I guess so."

"I love you, Bells." The words seem to spill out of his mouth. "You're strong. We'll get through this." Even the Chief sees what I'm only beginning to realize.

"I know, Dad. I love you, too."

"I'm gonna head over to the office to get out an APB on the vehicle you described. I'll only be gone for a few hours at most. I can be back here in a few minutes if you need me. You hear?"

"I'll be fine."

"Okay. I—I'll be back soon."

After a few squeaky shuffles and a rustle of fabric, I hear the door open and close behind the Chief. I wait a few seconds, listening to Bella's heart beat.

"You can come back in now." I hear Bella deadpan.

_How the hell does she know I'm still in here?_

I open the door of the bathroom and poke my head through the crack. Bella looks back at me with a knowing smirk.

"How'd you know I was still here?"

"Two reasons. First, when you're with me, there's no ache in my chest. Second, I can … _smell_ you, and third, you're too damn nosy."

"You can _smell_ me?"

Bella attempts to shrug and winces. "Shit. I've gotta stop doing that."

I stride over to her bedside. "Yes. You do. But how can you smell me?"

"I've just learned to focus on your scent above everything else. Besides, it's much more appealing than urine and Lemon Pledge."

"That's … _interestin_'."

"Maybe it has to do with you and me being … _mates_." Her voice drops to barely a whisper and her cheeks blaze a fierce red.

"Charlotte told you then."

"Yeah. She did. So my question is, why didn't you?" Bella fidgets again. "Just to get my point across, pretend I'm crossing my arms over my chest." She glares at me, and I get the mental image. I know she feels helpless, strapped into this hospital bed.

Still, what the hell do I tell her? That I'm deathly afraid of losing her? That I didn't want the finality of the term 'mates' to send her running and screaming in the other direction?

"I … I didn't know how to explain it to ya in a way to make ya understand that ya still have a _choice_. Yes, you are my mate, but you could chose not to stay with me, if that's what ya want."

I feel like a pansy ass excuse for a man. _She's mine. I should just claim her_. But what if I did and she hated me for eternity because of it. I couldn't bare that. No, she needs to have her choice, she deserves it. I can only hope she chooses me.

If I had a heart in my chest, it'd be beating a mile a minute right now, waiting for her response. She must know I'm sweating too, because she's taking her sweet ass time in forming a response. I can't focus my eyes on her any longer. My gaze begins to dart to various points of the room, never settling on her face.

"So just give me some of your blood and lets get the hell out of here."

My eyes hone in on her, but I can't tell whether she's serious or not. "You're kiddin', right? Do ya really know what yer askin'?"

"Well, it worked for Sookie in _True Blood_. Doesn't vampire blood have healing powers or something?" Bella mashes her lips together, trying to force back a smile that's curling the edge of her lips. The little vixen. She's enjoying watching me sweat.

"Yes. Our blood has healin' powers. The only problem is ya have to die in order to be healed."

That may have come out a little harsh. It's not my intention to scare her, but she needs to know how serious this is.

"Can you tell me what it's like?"

"Once I tell ya, you'll probably regret ever askin'. Are ya sure ya wanna talk about this now?"

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><p><strong>Yeah, so it's not the best place to leave this chapter, but I don't want to draw things out too long. I'm thinking that the next chapter will be a summary from Bella over the next two weeks. It might also have some more details about the staging of the meth lab explosion. <strong>

**I've done a lot of research on both human trafficking and meth labs. Yup, I've probably been flagged by some government agency for my recent searches. Washington is actually a hot spot for human trafficking, and is the first state to develop laws to protect the victims of human trafficking. Granted, most of the forced labor going on in Washington state is agricultural-based. Still, sex trafficking does exist in this northern border state. **

**It might be a while before I update Candy Striping again. I've been bit by another story idea that's gnawing at my brain. I'm hoping that if I go ahead and write it, I'll be able to better focus on this story after it's posted. Don't worry, it will only be a OS, so it shouldn't take me away for too long. I just want to be able to put my best into CS and fear that if I don't put this other story idea on paper, (figuratively speaking) that I won't be able to fully focus on CS and give it the attention it needs.**

**Now, I simply must tell you guys about a story that I'm in love with. It's called Wild at Heart, by silveraure. It's a Victoria/James fic that is beautifully written and so original!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Well, it's been a while. Sorry about that, but I _did_ forewarn you. I've posted a new story, The Thrill of the Hunt. Warning, it's very different than anything I've ever written. I intended to write it as a OS, but the story blossomed into something more. I may continue it, I'm just not sure how I'll do it.  
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**Anywho, back to Candy Striping. This chapter is basically a recount of Bella's two weeks of recovery and Jasper's recount of planting evidence to explain Bella's kidnapping.  
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**This chapter is beta'd by Raindropsoup. I gave her a lot of work with this chapter. he he  
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><p><strong>Recovery<strong>

**Bella's Point of View**

Over the last two weeks, I've received one hell of an education. Vampire Transformation 101 is quickly followed by Vampires: The First Year 102. Graduation? Well, that will have to wait. Though, I've heard there will be a barbecue.

My sarcasm takes on a cynical tone, or so I'm informed. I just hate the way everyone looks at me, like they think I'll turn into a sniveling anamorphic blob if they say the wrong thing or sit in the wrong chair. Charlie's used up all his personal leave and sick days tending to me. As much as I hate to admit it, I need tending to.

Who would've thought you'd need the use of your arms to do some many things? I'm reduced to being treated like a baby, apart from the diapers, the onesies, the bottles ... Okay, so maybe the baby analogy isn't a good one. Suffice it to say, I am absolutely helpless for nine days. Alice and Rosalie come over to help me with bathing, dressing, and toileting. Yeah. That's right, I said Rosalie.

Dr. Cullen thought it would be 'prudent' that she at least try to appear cordial and helpful for Charlie's sake. After all, she stayed by my bedside for several days, so we're practically BFFs, right? Alice was jealous of our fake friendship. Apparently, it superseded _our_ fake friendship in her crazy head. I can't help but be reminded of that Sandra Bullock movie _While You Were Sleeping_. Once again, probably not the best of analogies, but that dude had some gnarly eyebrows. They were like fuzzy caterpillars.

So, while I was sleeping, I gained a new best friend who already knew some of my darkest secrets. Sleep talking and morphine are apparently a really bad combination, and Rosalie just happened to be there watching over me during both of my R-rated dreams. When she divulged this information to me, I immediately panicked, but was shocked to learn she hadn't told a soul.

My naughty subconscious actually brought us closer, as weird as it might sound. In fact, Rosalie shared some of her sexual escapades with me. Apparently, vampire sex is like the freaking Olympics, and Emmett always goes for the gold. I have heard more than I cared to about stainless steel cat-o'-nine-tails and cast bronze butt plugs.

Still, I suffered through Rose's stories because she scared the shit out of me. I don't want my life to end because of some careless spill off the bath bench as she was bathing me.

Alice and Rosalie's visits have benefits other than my renewed personal hygiene. They also give me information. They know exactly what step Charlie's on in solving the case of my kidnapping. He's already found the twice-exploded cabin and the forensics team in Seattle have been examining the five skeletal remains. I can't help but think of Nancy Garza, just a pawn in Maria's sick, twisted game. Her face will forever be etched in my memory.

That is one thing I'm looking forward to forgetting once I become a vampire. Oh yeah, I guess I should mention that I've decided to give up the pulse and burn for three days—all part of the price for loving a vampire.

It is exactly this detached attitude about my eternal afterlife that has Dr. Cullen and the others worried. What they don't know is that I have a plan—a plan to keep Charlie _and_ Peter. It's still in the formulating stages, but it's there. It involves hypnotism and trigger words. I'm confident it will work.

I've seen the way Charlie watches me out of the corner of his eye when he thinks I'm not looking. Now that I'm okay, he is beginning to realize how close he came to losing me. I can't fake my own death or just abandon him for my happily ever after. I feel like I owe him honesty, but hate that I won't be able to tell him the truth. I know there's a compromise to be found; I just have to find it.

When Charlie's stressed out, he pours himself into his work. Things are no different with my case. The only strange thing is that he remained pretty close-lipped about what they have found. He's asked vague questions to confirm small details, but never told me about the bodies they found, or the abandoned car stashed in the woods a mile away from the West Fork home. I figure he's trying to protect me, which is something I'm getting a lot of lately.

On my seventh day home from the hospital, I was able to begin pendulum exercises with my left shoulder. Alice celebrated this accomplishment by making me, what she described as, 'fashionable moo moos.' They're basically tents with arm holes made with expensive fabrics. Still, it was a milestone for me. I was finally able to dress myself, sans underwear of course, but at least I was decent.

After being spoon-fed for three days and needing someone to wipe my ass for nine, I've learned to celebrate the little things. I'm slowly getting my independence back, but Peter still won't fuck me.  
>I try to reason that if I can take off my clothes by myself, I'm obviously ready. Still, he won't give in.<p>

On day thirteen, Peter brings Charlotte over while Charlie is in Seattle. It's difficult to look dignified in a moo moo, even if it's raw silk. I feel the need to hide my wounds, to sit straighter and act as though everything is peachy keen. It suddenly dawns on me that I'm treating Charlotte just how everyone else has been treating me. I relax into the couch, snuggling into Peter's side for support.

"I'm glad to see you well." Charlotte's eyes seem wary. She's stiff, and not in the made of stone, pulseless way. She rushes forward using her vampire speed, startling me for a moment. "I'm _so sorry_, Bella."

The look in her eyes is so pitiful, and I find myself pulling her hands in mine for reassurance.

"Charlotte, I'm fine. Really. Don't beat yourself up about it. _You_ didn't do this to me. Maria did."  
>She reluctantly nods her head.<p>

"So, I hear you're planning on doing some traveling?" I can't help it. I have to change the subject. It's still awkward between us. My dream certainly doesn't help the situation. I often find myself staring at her lips long enough for the sound of her voice to drown out. Still, I don't miss the spark that lights in her eyes when I mention her traveling. She's hopeful to find love again.

We chat about my therapy and the progress that I'm making. I'm surprised when she broaches the subject of my change, earning an eye roll from Peter. She makes us promise to keep in contact. I get the sense that she's considering double dates in the future. That certainly puts a new perspective on dinner and a movie.

It's now two days later when Charlotte leaves. I go to the Cullens' to wish her off. There isn't even a twinge of jealousy when she kisses Peter goodbye. Though there is a flush of red that springs to my cheeks when she kisses _me_ goodbye. Rosalie nearly dies of laughter. Everyone seems to wonder what's wrong with her. Well, all expect for Edward.

His hands fly to his lip-glossed mouth and his heavily mascaraed eyes spring open in surprise. He reminds me of a blow up doll. Something tells me he won't be offended by that thought.

Once Charlotte's cab is out of sight, a cold hand grips around my wrist and yanks. Even though I'm mostly recovered, that shit still hurts.

"Oops. Sorry. I get a little rough sometimes. I simply _must_ know all the details. Spare nothing, girl. It's gonna be a gush fest. I'm _so_ happy." Edward's words all blur together in his excitement as he pulls me up the staircase to his room.

I gasp in shock as I take in the huge poster of Eric Northman from the Southern Vampire Mysteries (a.k.a. True Blood) hanging on his wall. I read all the books while I was in the hospital. I figured it would be fun to separate vampire fact from fiction. I instantly recognize the poster as the one and only Eric Northman's "Mr. January" pose from Fangtasia's calendar.

Edward at least has good taste in men. I'll give him that. _Yum_.

"I know right. _Le-sigh_. Okay. Okay. You have to tell me everything about your dream." Edward settles himself in the center of his king-sized bed, done in a tacky blood red, and brings his knees to his chest, resting his chin against them.

"I—uh, hadn't planned on telling anyone," I stutter. "It's kind of … embarrassing. Besides, it's my subconscious. It's not like I'm a lesbian, or bisexual." _Not that there's anything wrong with that_, my mind concludes for Edward's benefit.

Edward sighs and rolls his eyes. "Go away, Peter. We're having girl time. No boys allowed." He giggles demurely behind his manicured nails.

"Edward. I don't count holdin' my girl against 'er will as 'girl time.' You let 'er out or I'm comin' in," Peter counters from behind the closed door.

"You're having a good time, right, Bella? I'm not keeping you here against your will."

Even though his words are benign enough, they trigger something deep inside of me. Golden eyes are replaced with red, and the brightly lit room fades into darkness. My heart begins to flutter and my hands and feet start to go numb. I hear Edward and Peter's voices echo as if they are down a long hallway. They sound so far away … and scared. I'm not sure what's going on.

I come around to find Dr. Cullen … er, Carlisle hovering over me with a small vial in his hand. He caps it will a smile and helps me to a sitting position.

"It seems you lost consciousness."

"I didn't talk in my sleep, did I?" It's an immediate response that I can't keep from flying out of my mouth.

Confused faces filled my vision. All except for Edward's knowing smirk. _Shit._

"I don't know what happened to me. Edward was talking to me one minute, and the next, I was losing it." My head's pounding and I still feel a little bit dizzy.

"Bella, ya had a flashback. Edward saw yer thoughts before ya passed out. Has this happened before?"

I shook my head, but I'm still not certain. There are pieces of my memory that seem like black holes, strung together memories with vibrant colors and scents, punctuated with darkness.

"I'm losing it, aren't I?" I looked to D—Carlisle for confirmation.

"No, Bella. You are not 'losing it,' as you suggest. It does appear that you have suppressed some memories from your time with Maria. This is your brain's sense of self-preservation—a coping mechanism to manage the stress of your captivity."

Well, my brain is pretty selective. I remember the worse parts of my time in that basement. Why can't I forget Nancy being drained right before my eyes? I can't fathom what's worse than that.

Then again, if I can't remember …

"I know that this is a lot of information for you to take in. Give it some time, Bella. If you would like to talk to someone about it, I could get you in touch with someone."

"You're talking about a shrink, right? Thanks, but no thanks, _Carlisle_. I'll figure it out on my own. Besides, pretty soon I'll forget all of this, right? Human memories fade away. Looks like I've just started the process early." I chuckle at that realization. Three pairs of wary yellow eyes stare back at me.

"What?"

"Well, frankly your readiness to embrace this life is … alarming. It is not a choice made lightly, nor is it a means to an end. It is, in fact, endless."

"Jeez. What is it with you all and the doom and gloom? I thought you'd be happy. A new member of the family and all of that."

"We are happy that you have chosen this life with us. We just want you to understand that it does not come without great sacrifice. It is not a decision to be made lightly. I—"

Peter steps right in front of Carlisle, wrapping an arm around my waist and helping me off the couch. He leads me out the front door and stops without a word of explanation to anyone. I have only a moment to stare at him before he turns his back to me and tells me to 'hop on.'

I climb on his back without hesitation, relishing the feel of his body under mine, and we're soon flying through the forest. I don't know what direction we're heading. All I know is that as the distance between us and the Cullens grow, the more relaxed I feel.

Peter abruptly stops in a clearing and sets me down on the ground, giving me a moment to readjust to gravity.

"What the fuck was that about?" I ask once I get enough air back into my lungs. Traveling at light speed has a tendency to leave you breathless.

"I'm just tired of their lessons an' advice. They're muddin' up everythin'."

"Am I supposed to understand what that means?"

He sighs and runs his fingers through his closely shorn hair. "Awe hell, I don't even know. All I see is 'em weaselin' their way into our lives, changin' the course of things. Carlisle asked me to talk to ya about yer diet."

"What does what I eat have to do with anything? Am I too fat to be a vampire?" I feel myself starting to spiral out of control into psycho girl mode.

"No, yer _vampire_ diet. He wants to encourage ya to go veg. I know he's hopin' that if he can convince ya, that you'll somehow convince me to change my ways."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that." The truth is, I haven't. I'm so concerned about how to hold on to what I'll leave behind that I haven't really considered how I'll sustain myself.

Peter's eyes dart to me and back to the ground several times while he scratches his head. "Well, truth is, I was kinda worried about bringin' it up. You don't have to decide now. You can wait till yer changed and see what ya want."

"Well, that's a pretty obvious answer. I'll want blood, and lots of it. Human blood."

"I jus' don't want ya to commit to an animal diet an' then be disappointed if ya slip. The newborn year is the hardest on our self-control."

"Can't we just get donated blood from the hospital or something? That'll work, right?"

"All the blood they have stored isn't enough to satisfy a newborn. Besides, it will be cold an' have chemicals in it that prevent coagulation. It makes the blood taste bad. I doubt it would be any better than animal blood, an' that's sayin' a lot."

"Then we'll go someplace secluded. No people. Only animals. At least for the first year. I don't think I could stand killing someone. I'm sorry, Peter. I know that you weren't given a choice when this life was handed to you, but I have one, and I don't want to kill."

"Okay. Jus' understand that yer decision may change when the fire is burnin' yer throat an' a human's blood is a callin' to ya. Most of the Cullens have slipped, too. We are what we are, an' no one'll blame ya if ya slip."

"Antarctica then?" I offer.

He chuckles. "Somethin' like that."

**Jasper's point of view**

These last few weeks have been interesting. It's like solving a mystery, only backwards. _Building_ a mystery. Sometimes, I half-expect to see red eyes staring back at me in the mirror. The devious nature of my work brings some of the good memories along with the bad ones. I used to be one scary mother fucker. Now, I only get to play one from time to time.

Killing humans is pretty much a 'no no' on my diet. Sure, I've slipped a time or two, but I always felt bad about it later. This time, I have a free pass. Now, there's no blood-drinking going on, but I still get to plot the way the fuckers die. These dregs of society fall under the category of food by my old standards. No one will miss them when they're gone, and the world will be better off without them.  
>It starts with the bodies.<p>

I canvass the seediest areas of Seattle, trying to find my targets. Things just seem to fall right into place. Ferminia Herdandez had traveled far from the Mexican border and established herself as a modern-day madam. Too bad there are laws against that sort of thing nowadays. Well, bad for her, but perfect for me. She fits the general build and colorings of Maria, and the fact that she's wanted for heading an illegal prostitution ring is perfect for our alibi. My Adolfo substitute is just one of her associates. One bad dose of heroin later, and we have our ring leaders.

Their DNA is found all over the abandoned silver Chevy Malibu that the Forks' police locates. I also have Carlisle confirm that it was Nancy Garcia's blood on the backseat's floorboard. Bella had done well to make that connection. A few strands of Bella's hair are also found in the backseat, and her crushed cell phone littered the center console. Bella's story and my planted evidence corroborates.

I immerse myself in my mission. The details have to be perfect. No lose ends to unravel. I spend long hours on the phone with Jenks, my contact in Seattle. He has an in on all things underhanded. He supplies me with the contacts needed to purchase the chemicals and paraphernalia necessary to fake a meth lab. Unfortunately. you can't just go to the local Walmart to buy red phosphorus.

Secured phone lines and meetings in dark alley with less-than idle threats fill my days and nights. The only issue is re-burning an already charred house.

I can't rag on Charlotte too much. After all, the fire is what initially gave me the idea for the methlab. All I need to do is get the bodies and plant the chemicals for a believable crime scene.  
>A methlab explosion is just that, a fucking explosion. There's little left of our victims. The two-story house is reduced to nothing more than cinder blocks, ash, and bones.<p>

Everything is coming together beautifully. Still, it's no time to slack off. The job's not finished yet, and I don't half-ass anything.

I watch Chief Swan from a distance. I want to know about every piece of evidence he uncovers. I even go so far as to employ Edward to eavesdrop on his thoughts. The poor man's beside himself, plagued with guilt and inadequacy. He feels that he's failed at protecting his daughter. Little does he know what he was actually up against.

The investigation is now drawing to a close, and I'm a disappointed. I'm not the only one, too. I know that in the back of his mind, Chief Swan wants Bella's perpetrators alive so he can kill them himself, or at least watch them die. The man would make a fine vampire. I consider bringing up the idea about turning him, but Edward catches onto my thoughts, blabs to Alice, who in turn blabs to Carlisle.

Needless to say, my fun's ruined. Good thing Alice is home more often now that Bella has generally recovered to her normal, human self. My deviant mind takes a turn from criminal to erotic.

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><p><strong>So, it sounds like Bella's made her decision, but the Cullens (namely Carlisle) are pussy-footing around her decision because of her emotional state. There's just a few things to wrap up until we get to our blood-drinking happily ever after. I have a few wrenches I can throw in the mix, but I'll leave that up to you guys. Wrenches will extend the story a little, but do we really want Bella going through more shit?<strong>

**Yeah, I know. I know. Let's all put aside our feelings to appease the needs of a fictional character. But seriously, your input is greatly appreciated.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Yup, it's been forever. Did you think I forgot about you? I'm terribly sorry for going over a month between updates. I could give you several excuses, but excuses are for pussies. I'm a jerk, and that's all there is to it!  
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**I hope you enjoy this update. For those of you who voted for no more wrenches, I promise that this is a necessary wench. Besides, it's really little.  
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**I love you! Please, don't hate me!  
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><p><strong>Confrontations<strong>

**Bella's Point of View**

I'm thankful for the ability to wear my sweatpants now, or else my ass would be sticking to the pleather seats of Charlie's cruiser in those awful moo moos.

Yeah, it sucks being chauffeured around by my dad. The cruiser tends to turn heads in this small town, and word has spread about my harrowing tale. The details of the case have been kept secret, which leaves the whole town speculating on my mysterious disappearance and reappearance. There are some interesting theories going around. Some involve my estranged mother and her abusive boyfriend, while the weirder ones center around alien abductions and government cover-ups. Now, instead of just being 'peyote girl,' I've earned the title 'poor peyote girl' and the unwanted sympathy of most of the town.

It's for this very reason that I avoid the entirety of Forks that exists outside of my house … until today. No, today, I am on my way to deliver a long-overdue thank you to Jake. My gimpy status, along with my vampire visitors, has kept us apart, not that I'm entirely unhappy with that fact. Jake and I didn't exactly leave things on a positive note. If memory serves me right, there had been a lot of shouting when we last spoke. The fact remains that he saved my life in that basement. I owe him more than I can ever repay. He put aside all of our troubles and recent arguments and came to my aid. My coming here in thanks is the least I can do.

"What's eating you?" Charlie asks without taking his eyes off of the road. Until this moment, I don't realize I'm chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"Nothing." It sounds like a typical adolescent response.

"No. There's something bothering you, Bells. What's up between you an' Jake? You guys used to be … close."

"Things are different now."

"Because you have a boyfriend?"

My mouth drops open. I can't believe Charlie is really insisting on having this conversation with me right now. Isn't this the kind of thing dads typically avoid? Maybe if I can somehow weasel something about my menstrual cycle into the conversation, he'll stop prodding.

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Give the boy a break, Bella. He's just jealous is all. You guys should work things out. He's been a good friend to you."

"Oh no. You and Billy have been talking again, haven't you? I wouldn't doubt it if your periods were in sync. The relationship you two have goes against the laws of nature." So the period comment is a little forced, but I still have to get it in there.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's a girl thing. I thought you would understand. After all, you and Billy are worse gossips than the nurses at the hospital."

"It's not gossip. It's my job to know what's going on in this town." Charlie sits up a little straighter in his seat.

"Well, next time you want to know what's going on in _my_ life, just ask me. It's always better to go to the source for information, right?"

"Yeah, except when the 'source' is your own daughter."

I snort. "What are you trying to say, Dad?"

"Only that you keep stuff from me. I've read a few books, so I know it's only natural at your age. You'll come around in a few years."

I stare at my father, slack-jawed. I mean, I know that it has to be hard having your teenage daughter, who you only saw for short summer visits, suddenly dumped on you without so much as an explanation. I would have never guessed that he would turn to parenting books, of all things, for advice. I've never even seen my dad crack open a book. Magazines, sure, but never books.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" His mustache is twitching as he shifts in his seat.

"You … _read_?"

He busts out laughing and reaches across the center console to open the glove compartment. Groping blindly at the contents, his eyes stay glued to the road. Finally, he pulls out two cassette tapes and holds them up for me to inspect.

"Books on tape," he explains.

I reach out with my right hand to inspect the ancient tapes. _Father to Daughter_ and _Strong Fathers Strong Daughters_ are the titles staring back at me from the plastic cassettes. I feel tears brimming in my eyes as I run my fingers over the labels.

"You know they have these on CDs, right?" Sarcasm—my go-to defense mechanism.  
>"There's no CD player in the cruiser. Besides, these are pretty old."<p>

"Thanks, Dad. Mom didn't exactly give you a lot of notice when she dropped me off on your doorstep. I'm sure it wasn't easy raising a teenage daughter."

"I'm lucky I had such a good kid. You made things a lot easier than I thought they'd be."

I snort. _Easy?_ "What about the whole peyote thing?"

"I blame that more on myself than you, Bella. You took a lot of heat because of the position I'm in. You were made an example of the first time you … _got high_." He pauses to eye me at a stop light. "That was the first time, wasn't it?"

"The first and only time, Dad. Trust me." Public humiliation is one hell of a teacher.

"I do, Bells. I do."

We spend the rest of the car ride in, not so much of an awkward silence, but a silent understanding. Anyone else would probably think our silence strange or uncomfortable, but not Charlie and me.  
>The first glimpse of First Beach always changes my mood. It's almost like something in the air shifts when you pass the boundary line to the Reservation. The heaviness seems to lift. Even the smells change. The Rez is filled with the scent of sea salt from First Beach and the ever-present smoke from the hearths of the small homes.<p>

It's not long before the paved road changes to gravel beneath the tires. Charlie parks in front of the familiar faded red house. I sit in the passenger seat, staring at the front screen door. I can already feel his eyes on me.

Charlie comes around and opens my door, looping an arm around my waist to help me to my feet. I tug at the hem of my shirt at a failed attempt to look decent. It shouldn't matter. This is Jake, after all. Still, so much has changed between us in the last … two months. It's crazy when you think about how much has transpired in so little time.

Charlie helps me to the house as the front door swings open, the springs of the screen door protesting against the motion.

"Looks like the Doc put you back together."

I look up to see Jacob leaning against the door jamb, his arms and feet crossed in a pose that is supposed to look relaxed. At first glance, he pulls it off, but the twitching of his eyebrow is his giveaway.

"Yup, almost as good as new." I force a chuckle. Jake nods to Charlie as he leads me into the cramped house. Billy is waiting in the living room with a broad smile stretched across his face. I know it's not for me, though. He's happy to see his friend. Charlie hasn't been to the Rez since I went missing. That's got to be some record set for time spent apart for these two.

Once I'm settled on the couch, Charlie makes his way to Billy and claps him on the shoulder in greeting.

"It's been too long, my friend."

Charlie attempts to apologize, but Billy will have nothing of it.

"Bella, how are you feeling? I hear you've been through quite a bit." Billy looks at me meaningfully. He knows the whole story behind my kidnapping—the truth.

I take in a deep breath and blow it out. "I'm just glad it's all over. I'm getting better. There's still a little pain, but Dr. Cullen expects I'll make a full recovery."

"That's very good news. It sounds like you were lucky." Again, his eyes shine with intensity, and I pick up on the hidden meaning. He's not happy with the company I keep. Of course, I already know that.

"Yes. Well, luckily it's all over now." I return his stare.

There's a flash of confusion before he answers. "Right." He's the first to look away, and I feel my shoulders slump when he's freed me of his glare.

The two old hens start yapping away, and Jake takes that as his clue to approach me.  
>"You wanna get some air?" Smooth, Jake. Real smooth.<p>

"Sure." He loops an arm around my waist and pulls me to stand. For a moment, I'm flush against his heated skin. It's an uncomfortable reminder of an earlier time, and I struggle to free myself from his grip.

He doesn't fight me, thankfully, and his arms fall limply to his sides. I turn toward the door, not wanting to see the look on his face. I'm hurting him, and seeing his pain is too much to bear. His anger I can deal with, but not the forlorn, dejected look in his eyes.

Once outside, I inhale the smoke and salt in the air and lean against the weathered siding of the house.

The moment he steps outside, we both start talking.

"I know I should have …"  
>"Hey, I just wanted …"<p>

We both pause and wait for the other to continue. Jake's staring at the ground, running a hand through his dark hair. I guess that's my cue.

"So, I just wanted to say thank you … you know, for saving my life." Now it's my turn to stare at the ground.

"You don't need to thank me for doing my job."

I snort. "You act like you bagged my groceries at the Stop n' Shop."

"We're wolves. We protect people from bloodsuckers." There's a hint of animosity simmering under the surface of his words. He saved my life but still feels he wasn't able to protect me from them—_from Peter_.

And just like that, things go to a new level of awkward. I can't just say my thanks and move on without it being about _how_ I've moved on, and _who_ I've moved on with.

"Look, Jake. I know you can't see it, but Peter is a good person—"

He cuts me off. "A person? How can you even call him that? He's a monster, Bella; a red-eyed bloodsucker. He's going to kill you one day. He's going to take you away from me forever." Jake's words are cut off by a long, bellowing howl.

I see Jake's body go rigged and his eyes snap toward the sound.

"That's Sam."

Even though the howl is a bad sign, and my body is already starting to feel the effects of fear, Sam's name triggers _Muskrat Love_ to play in my head. In the moment it takes me to get my mind off the gerbil sex, Jake has disappeared. I go back inside the Black's small house to find my Dad and Billy arguing as Billy tries, unsuccessfully, to have a phone conversation.

"What the fuck was that howl, and why does it have you two running around like it's the end of the fucking world?" He shoots up from his chair and points his finger accusingly. "I'm the Chief of Police, God dammit. I've let you handle the tribe matters on your own, but I know there's something you're not telling me. Just spill it, Billy. Whatever it is, I can handle it."

Billy looks warily between me and my father during Charlie's tirade. Charlie's chest still heaves with emotion, even though he's run out of words. Billy's gaze fixes on me, and it's not long before I feel Charlie's eyes on me, too.

I'm thankful when Jacob reappears in the doorway to his room. He's changed clothes, and I immediately recognize the cutoffs and twine around his ankle as his "shifter" attire. The front door is swinging closed in his wake before anyone can think to get a word out.

"What's going on Billy?" My question doesn't sound like much of a question, mainly because I'm pretty sure I already know the answer. Still, I'm holding out hope that I'm wrong.

"The female was spotted on our land. The one that got away." He's chosen his words carefully, but the reality of what he's saying causes my blood to run cold.

I turn my back to them and flip out my cell phone. I dial Peter's number, and the seconds it takes to do so feel like a century. Charlie's thankfully gone back to questioning Billy, and I do my best to tune them out.

"Bella, are you all right?" His response is nothing new. There's usually something wrong with me when I call him.

I skip right to the meat of the issue. "Has Alice seen her? The vamp from my hospital room. She's in Quileute territory."

"Fuck." There's a pause on the line. Peter's speaking too quickly for me to make out any words. "The Cullens are headin' to the boundary line, an' I'm comin' to you."

"Peter, you can't do that. You know you're not allowed on Quileute land."

"Screw the treaty, I'm comin'."

"They'll kill you." I'm surprised when I feel a hand on my elbow. I turn to find Billy has wheeled himself over to me and is looking expectantly at my phone.

"Let me talk to him, Bella."

Bewildered, I hand the phone over to him.

"Bella will be safe here. The younger _shifters_ will be staying on the Reservation in case she doubles back around." Billy pauses, probably listening to Peter's response. "Four." He nods and closes the phone, ending the call.

Billy hands me my phone without a word and wheels himself back over to my now-silent father. Still, Charlie is anything but calm. His face is the same shade of a tomato and his jaw is held tightly clenched.

"All right, I've been patient. Now tell me what's really going on before I call every squad car we have over here and march my men into those damned woods myself!" It's too bad Billy and I know that there are only three squad cars in Forks, my dad's included. As for all his "men," he only has one full-time deputy and two officers on stand-by.

Billy exhales and looks to his friend. "You've been treated as a member of this tribe for as long as we've been friends. You already know all there is to tell. It's the same story that has been told time and time again in our tribe. A cold one has entered our territory, and our spirit warriors have gone to kill it." Billy pauses and waits for the information to sink in.

Charlie snorts in response. "You're telling me this has something to do with your legends? Have you been smoking the reafer again, Billy? Peace pipe or not, it's still marijuana."

"Our legends are true, Charlie."

Dad looks at both of us, probably waiting for me to pipe up and tell Billy he's crazy.  
>He shakes his head. "Not you, too, Bells. You can't believe in these silly legends."<p>

"I do believe them, Dad. I always have."

He pauses to stare at the corner of the room, a perplexed look plastered on his face. "So, the howl I heard was a …"

"A wolf," Billy finishes.

"It was Sam Uley." Fuck! I squeeze my eyes shut against the memory. Again, I have to shake away the thought. "There's a lot more to the story, Dad. You might want to make yourself comfortable."  
>Charlie eyes me warily, but I see him marginally relax into the old, velour couch. He glares at me from under his furrowed brows, and I don't miss the twitch of his mustache. He rolls up his sleeves and crosses his arms across his chest. I take a seat across from him and settle in for what will probably be a long story.<p>

"Well, you remember when Jake and I were dating, right?"

He nods, his eyes momentarily flickering to Billy.

"That's the first time I saw Jake shift … into a wolf. I mean, I knew about the wolves, but I had never actually _seen_ one until four years ago. Jacob had just joined the pack." Charlie looks at me curiously, and I have to remind myself how out of the loop he really is. "The wolf pack. There's several boys … er, men on the reservation who are also wolves. Leah Clearwater is also a wolf."

Again, I wait to give him a chance to let my words sink in, but Charlie just stares right through me.

"Keep going."

"You know what the wolves hunt, right? I mean, from the legends." I try to keep him engaged to make sure he's following me.

"The cold ones." He says it with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"Vampires." I correct him. "The cold ones are vampires, and there's a coven living right outside of Forks." For the first time in the conversation, I have Charlie's full attention. I know he wants to know who the vampires are, and I'm almost too afraid to tell him.

"The Cullens, Dad. The Cullens are the vampires. Now, before you fly off the handle, they aren't like most vampires. They don't drink human blood. They only drink from animals."

"Apart from one of them," Billy adds with a glare. I choose to ignore the comment and hope that Charlie will do the same.

"You're telling me that there are really vampires out there? Like, the blood-drinking, burned by the sun, Dracula vampires?" He scoffs.

"No, not exactly. They aren't burned by the sun. They have another reason for avoiding direct sunlight."

"Well, come on out with it."

"They sparkle." I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction. He doesn't disappoint.

Charlie lets out a big guffaw and slaps his knee. "Damn. Oh, you had me up until that one, Bells. So, who all is in on this? You know it's a whole month until my birthday. Is that why you did it now, so I wouldn't expect it? Damn, Billy, I'm turnin' fifty. You coulda given me a heart attack!"

His laugh dies in his throat when he takes in the look on our faces.

"They fucking sparkle? Are you serious? I gotta see this shit for myself." Charlie's hand goes to his holster as he flies from the couch. It takes me three unsuccessful attempts before I make it out of my chair and Charlie's already out of the door.

"Don't worry about him, Bella. He's gone on foot. He won't make it far. The boys won't let him get into any trouble."

"Why do you think the female would come back? Her coven is gone."

"That's exactly why she's back. She's back for vengeance. We can only hope she hasn't brought friends."


	24. Chapter 24

**Sorry for the delay, guys. I had a death in the family (I know, the oldest excuse in the book, but unfortunately it's true.)  
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**Beta'd by the talented Raindropsoup and ready for your viewing pleasure.  
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**Enjoy!  
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><p><strong>Confrontation … continued<strong>

**Bella's Point of View**

"Don't tell me things like that, Billy." I pace back and forth in the small living room.

"You might as well get comfortable, Bella. These things can take some time. Sue's on phone patrol. She'll let us know when they get her, or if she gets away." _Or if she's brought friends_, my mind concludes.

Reluctantly, I sit. Tapping my fingers on my knees, I try to look anywhere except at Billy. My eyes scan the wall, picking out what looks to be a recently updated picture of Rachel.

"How are the girls doing, Billy? It's been a while since I've seen them."

"Good. Good." I was hoping for a little more elaboration than that. Something tells me that the awkward afternoon is going to stretch into an awkward evening. "Tell me about your blood drinker. I'd like to know more about him."

And there's my confirmation. No, awkward just slipped off the deep end to none-of-your-damned-business.

"Do we really need to talk about this now?" I pinch the bridge of my nose. I swear I can already feel a headache coming on.

"Oh, I think now's the perfect time." _Of course he does._

I want nothing more than to get out of this house and away from present company. Regardless of my answer, it won't be the right one. Well, unless I give the pack permission to tear my boyfriend to shreds for being the human-drinker that he is. _Yeah, not going to happen_. I really don't want to fight a losing battle right now. I'm more worried about the battle that might be unfolding in the mountains surrounding First Beach.

"Look, Billy, I know that you don't support my decision in dating a vampire, but ... _ugh_." I hang my head in my hands. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you."

"Bella, I've been your father's friend for over thirty years. I've watched you grow up right alongside my own children. I can't stand to see you in the arms of our _enemy_. I've kept my mouth shut for your father's sake, but now that he knows, he deserves to know everything." I can tell that Billy plans on being the one to inform him of my boyfriend's nature. In fact, the only reason he's not on the phone right now blabbing is because I'm still here.

"I'm going to tell him." I look him dead in the eyes to show him I'm serious.

Billy leans toward me, his eyes turning that intense coal black. "He's a killer, Bella. Do you really think Charlie's going to sit idly by while his daughter _fornicates_ with a murderer?"

I'm shocked over his choice of words. "He likes Peter," I stutter, not meeting his eyes.

"Only because he doesn't know what he is."

"I'll tell him. I'll tell him everything." _Before you have a chance to get to him._

"Even how you're planning on becoming a vampire?" Billy words hold a challenge. He's challenging me to deny it.

"I've never said anything like that." I feel like what I haven't said speaks volumes.

"I know how things work with our kind and theirs. We mate for life. He'll want to change you, and then we'll have to kill you both."

I can't help the gasp that escapes my lips. He can't be serious. The wolves would kill me? Jake? Seth? Sa—_Embry_?

"The treaty is very clear. If the Cullens take the life of a human, the treaty is forfeit. We would be within our right to destroy the whole coven."

I'm searching for a response. I want to counter him. I want to tell him that Peter won't be killing me; instead he'll be giving me an eternity. But, I forgot the way they view them—cold, dead, vicious creatures whose only purpose is to kill.

I never dreamed that my choice would have such a high cost. _We'll have to leave. We'll go somewhere where there aren't any humans. _

"Bella." My head whips to the sound of my name. I know I must look crazy, as if my whole life is unraveling before me—a mess of tangled threads slipping through my fingers. "You can have so much more than he can offer." Billy's voice is quiet, almost soothing, but his words only serve to fuel the fire within me. "It's the choice of life over death."

I let out a bitter laugh and push out of the chair, trying my best to hide my pain.

"I never expected you to understand. Do me a favor, Billy, and stay out of my business. Whatever Charlie needs to know, I'll tell him. It's not your place."

"You're damn right—"

I cut him off. "Just stop. Please." Without another word, I walk out of the house, relishing in the resounding smack of the screen door against its wood frame.

The cruiser hasn't moved. It seems so strange to think that when we got out of that car, Charlie was completely oblivious to the supernatural world. That's all changed now, and unfortunately, there's more to explain.

I'll be damned if I'm letting Billy get to my dad first. I'm almost twenty one. My birthday is in a little more than a week—only a few days before Charlie's birthday. The point is, I'm an adult for all intents and purposes. According to the law my father clings to so dearly, there's not much he could do to stop me once I've made up my mind.

I walk along the gravel road, contemplating what would happen if Charlie charges Peter with my death. I'd probably have to show up at his trial. _Yeah, that might be a tough case._

Besides, if he attempts to expose vampires, well, he'll be signing his own death warrant along with mine, too.

I have to stop myself before my train of thought finds its eventual, horrible end.

It's not long before I hear laughter up ahead and the distinct sound of a soda can opening—or, more likely—a beer can opening. Sure enough, Charlie is starting on a bender, giving Seth, Cole, and gravity his full attention.

"Dad, you okay?"

Charlie's torso turns first and his legs struggle to keep him upright. "Yup. I'm good. Just waitin' to see that sparkly vampire."

"It shouldn't be long now," Seth adds.

"Have you heard anything?"

"I phased about fifteen minutes ago to check in. They pretty much had her pinned along the blood—I mean the Cullen's line. A few minutes ago we heard the victory howl." Seth pauses and looks conspiratorially to his younger pack mate. A smile spreads across his face. "I told 'em to bring back the head for the Chief here." My dad joins in on the juvenile fist bumps as I roll my eyes.

Although, I have to admit I'm a little curious to see the face behind the voice.

My phone buzzes in the pocket of my sweat pants. I scramble to answer it, hoping it's a good sign.

"Peter?" My voice sounds impatient but hopeful.

"We got the bitch."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck."

"Although, those damned wolves wanted to keep the head fer some idiotic reason. Are they gonna put it on some totem pole or somethin'?"

"No." I pause, not knowing how best to phrase my next statement. "My dad wants to see it."

It's a long moment before he answers me. "Sounds like you might've had a more interestin' afternoon than I did."

"Oh, it's definitely been interesting." I lower my voice. "I'm hoping that if Charlie keeps drinking, he might not remember anything when he wakes up tomorrow."

"Then tell 'im to have another beer on me. Bella, I want to—"

Charlie grabs the phone from my hand. "Who you talking to? Is it that vampire boyfriend of yours?" He snickers.

"It's Peter, Dad. Now can I have my phone back?"

"No." I try to grab the phone from him, but he knows my limitations. I still can't lift either arm above shoulder level. "I wanna talk to him." He turns his back to me and walks toward the treeline as he brings the phone to his ear.

"Shit." I stalk off after him. "Dad, can you let me explain everything? Please."

"I've already heard enough. The boys here filled me in on all I need to know."

I turn to glare at the teenagers. "Do you even realize what you've done?"

"We just want to see if bullets bounce off of them or not." Seth laughs and shares another fist bump with Cole.

"Dad, can't this wait till tomorrow?" We dance around each other with Charlie trying to keep his back to me while I'm trying to face him head on.

"Dammit, Bella. I'm trying to have a conversation here." His attention goes back to the phone conversation. "Now why the hell can't you come here? You too chicken to face me?"

_Fuck! _I hang my head in my hands. This couldn't possibly worse.

"I don't care what the treaty says, I wanna have this conversation face to face. Mano-e-mano. Okay. Where do I meet you?" He pauses. "No. Just you and me." Charlie sighs. "Fine. I'll see you in five."  
>Dad snaps the phone closed and turns to face me. "You're coming with me." Without waiting for a response, he marches toward the cruiser, all thoughts of a sparkly vampire head forgotten.<p>

I scramble to catch up with him, wondering how I can convince him I should drive. Technically, I haven't been released by Dr. Cullen for driving yet, but I think I'm probably the most capable between the two of us.

"Where's your keys, Dad? I'm driving."

"The hell you are. You can't even shampoo your own hair. I'm fine. I'm driving. End of discussion."

"Pass a sobriety test, and I'll let you. Otherwise, I'm calling the cops."

He stops abruptly and turns around. "Z,Y,X,W,V,U,T,S,R,Q,P,O,M,L,K,J,I,H,G,F,E,D,C,B,A." He says the letters so quickly, I can't even tell if they are in the proper order. He then walks five steps heel to toe, turns on a dime, and walks back without so much as a teeter or totter one way or the other. Now, with feet together and arms extended at shoulder level, he tilts his head back and looks skyward. "There. Now I'm driving."

My argument doesn't have a leg to stand on, so I mutely slide into the passenger seat of the cruiser. Charlie nestles his beer can in the after-market cup holder and puts the key in the ignition. I have half a mind to make a comment about his 'open container,' but the determined look in his eyes makes me hold my tongue.

We peel out of the gravel driveway, leaving a cloud of dust in our wake. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch the moon disappear and resurface behind the pine trees that line the road. I have no idea where we are going, and I have no idea what to expect once we reach our destination.  
>I'm both surprised and relieved when we turn toward town. However, my relief quickly turns to anxiety as my mind plays out a very public argument involving two supernatural creatures—a vampire and an over-protective father. The bad news is that only one of those creatures is bullet-proof.<p>

"Where are we going?"

"To the Stop N' Shop parking lot. He's smart enough to want to meet in a public place. I'll give him that much."

"You liked him before you knew he was a vampire."

"And for some stupid reason, you like him in spite of being a vampire." He doesn't even bother taking his eyes off of the road to look at me.

Charlie's really pissed, and I feel I need to do my best to try to calm him down. "I've grown up knowing about the supernatural. I've always believed the legends. I've known Dr. Cullen and all the Cullen kids from high school were vampires. Even you have to admit that they haven't caused any trouble since they've moved here, and neither has Peter."

In the middle of the street, Charlie throws on the breaks, bringing the cruiser to a screeching halt. While I'm still in a state of 'what the fuck,' Charlie turns his fierce gaze on me.

_Oh fuck_.

"I don't have a problem with the Cullens, but I do have a problem with your _boyfriend_. He's a murderer, Bella. He kills people."

"Only the bad ones," I squeak, my eyes still as large as saucers. Hearing the words out loud, I can't help but think how ridiculous the claim sounds, even though I know it's true.

He lets out an irritated sound and shakes his head before continuing down the road.

When the red and yellow neon sign comes into view, I crane my body in my seat to look for Peter. He's standing with his hands in his pockets at end of the parking lot. A lone street-lamp illuminates his form in a mist of rain around him.

Charlie turns into the parking lot and heads straight for Peter with his foot still heavily on the gas pedal. I stare in horror as a look of grim determination spreads across my father's face.

"Dad? _Stop!_" I scream and screw my eyes shut as I brace for impact.

For the second time tonight, Charlie brings the cruiser to a screeching halt. I open one eye, and then the other to survey the damage. The smell of rubber is heavy in the air, and the smoke from the tires swirl around the car. Peter is still standing in the same pose I last saw him in, seeming unimpressed by Charlie's display of testosterone.

I immediately go to open the door, but a hand wraps around my wrist to stop me. I wince, and Charlie instantly lets me go.

"You're staying in the car."

"The hell I am. He's not going to hurt me … or you, for that matter."

He snickers and opens his car door. I do the same. We each glare at the other over the roof of the cruiser before turning to Peter.

I want to run to him—to wrap my arms around him and breathe him in—but I don't. I'm the peacekeeper in this situation, and I can already feel eyes on my back. There's not much that goes on in this little town, and seeing the police chief nearly run over a man is a sight to see.

Charlie notices it, too. "Move along, people. There's nothing to see here."

Reluctantly, the people go to their cars and vacate the parking lot. There are a few who just sit in their vehicles, watching us from behind the privacy of their window tinting.

"Let's make this quick. You don't see, talk to, or think about my daughter ever again. Is that clear?" He keeps his voice low, but the menace behind it is still unmistakable. Still, I have to stifle a laugh. I know Peter won't back down. It's not in his nature.

_Stubborn, meet Stubborn. _

Realization hits with the force of a tidal wave, and my knees momentarily go weak.

"Oh, dear Lord. I'm dating my father." It comes out as a whisper, but is screamed in my head. _Oh, Lord. I'm dating my father! _That's when the nausea hits, and I double over as my stomach flips and my hand flies futilely to cover my mouth.

I come up for air to find two sets of concerned eyes—one pair brown, the other red. Still, it's the similarities that strike me, and I feel another wave of nausea coming on.

"Bella, what's wrong?" It's Peter who asks, but Charlie shoots him a territorial look that says, 'back the fuck up.'

"Nothing. I'm fine. Just … don't … never mind. Have your little talk so you two can get over this, please." I don't mean to be so dismissive … okay, well maybe I do.

"I'm sorry, Chief Swan, but the only way I'll leave Bella alone is if she asks me to. As long as she wants me in 'er life, I'm gonna be here."

"I was afraid you'd say that." Dad opens up the back door of the cruiser and gestures for Peter to get in. "Don't make me do this the hard way. You're a killer, and I'm locking you up one way or another."

"I'm afraid I can't let ya do that, sir. Tryin' me for my crimes will only serve in gettin' more people killed. Now, let me ask you a question."

"You get one."

"Do you believe in capital punishment?"

"You're damn right I do."

"So do I. You could call me a vigilante of sorts. I only kill people who are murderers, rapists, or who are too drugged up to even know what's happenin' to them. If anythin', I save the federal government money by riddin' the word of a few undesirables."

"Well, I call that playing God, and last I checked, there's no halo floatin' around your head."

Peter chuckles. "Damn. I wish we could be on the same side here, Chief. I really like you."

"I can't say I share the same sentiment." Charlie whistles and, again, gestures to the back seat.

I'm surprised when Peter approaches him with arms outstretched, wrists facing up. Charlie doesn't miss a beat, his handcuffs appearing in his hand.

"These are silver plated. Is that gonna matter?"

"Nope."

"Damn." Charlie takes one wrist, cuffs it, and pulls Peter's shoulder forward. Complying, Peter turns and allows Charlie to cuff his other hand behind his back. With practiced ease, Charlie guides Peter into the back seat of the cruiser. Defiantly, I climb right in with him.

Rolling his eyes, Charlie climbs into the driver's seat and starts the engine.

"Are you really booking him?"

"I can't. Innocent until proven guilty and all of that shit. But, I can hold him for twenty-four hours while I gather evidence. A list of missing persons within a one-hundred mile radius should lead somewhere."

"If yer lookin' for DNA evidence to link me to a murder, ya won't find any. No fingerprints, no strands of hair, no epithelial cells. Nothin'."

It's a long while before Charlie responds. "Oh, I'll find a way. You've just narrowed down what I _can't_ search for."


	25. Chapter 25

**It has been sooooooo long, and there are not enough apologies for that. Many things have happened since I last updated. Mainly going back to work, which was the biggest reason for not getting a chance to update, and having another baby. I'm currently typing one-handed with my 8-week old son in my arms.**

**I wish I could give you a more exciting update, but this story is winding down to it's conclusion. This chapter and all subsequent chapters will not be beta'd.**

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><p>Love Don't Mean a Thing<p>

I watch my father through the metal bars as he hunts and pecks at the keyboard, his face illuminated by the blue glow from his computer screen. It's been five long hours since we got to the police station. Five long hours of defiantly sitting in the jail cell next to my "murderous" boyfriend. Five long hours of wondering how many different types of DNA are on the mattress I'm currently sitting on.

I secretly wonder if Charlie is doing this all for effect. The hand cuffs and jail cell can't actually hold Peter here, at least not physically. Maybe it's some kind of symbolism Charlie is trying to convey. _Bound and caged. Peter can't get away._ Then I realize how ridiculous I'm being. This is Charlie—direct and abrasive with a smidgeon of hostile—Charlie.

"God dammit!" A resounding thud makes me sit bolt upright from my slumped position. I look up to find Charlie raking his hands through his hair leaning as far back in his computer chair as gravity will allow.

"He's not findin' a goddamned thing and it's pissin' 'im off," Peter whispers with a slow smile creeping over his face.

"I know my dad. He'll make us sit here the whole twenty-four hours until he finds something. Even if he doesn't, he'll have a backu—"

"I can't concentrate with you two whispering back and forth conspiratorially to each other. Besides, I already have a backup plan. I call her Vera." Charlie cracks the first smile I've seen from him since the supernatural crap hit the fan. Unfortunately, it's quickly replaced by his now-typical scowl.

Charlie rocks forward and stands from his chair in one swift motion. He hooks his left hand under the concealed holster beneath his jacket. It's such a force of habit for him that it shouldn't warrant the title 'concealed' anymore.

"There's just something I don't understand. If you would be so kind as to explain it to me, I'd appreciate it." His words are cordial, but the tone is anything but sincere. "Why? Why choose to kill people if there's another option? The Cullens seem to get along just fine without slaughtering half the town. So why can't you?"

Peter snickers under his breath, an action that isn't missed by Charlie. "So you think muderin' people is funny?"

_Oh fuck. _My eyes shoot wide open and I grip Peter's hand so hard I think I hear my own knuckles crack. _Pull up, Peter, the plane's about to crash!_

"No, not at all, sir. It's jus' that I don't consider the way the Cullen's live as 'getting along just fine.'" I hold my breath, waiting for Peter to hopefully say the right thing. "You look like a healthy man, Chief Swan." Charlie eyes Peter like a used car salesman. "A red-blooded, meat and potatoes guy I'm guessin'."

Peter's waiting for a response, but Charlie doesn't give him as much as a shrug.

"I know there were days in my human life where I would kill fer a big piece of juicy steak. I craved meat the same way this body craves blood, human blood. It's our natural food source. We aren't meant to drink from animals. Not only does it weaken us physically, but it never fully quenches the thirst. I drink from low-life humans to keep the rest of ya safe—especially Bella."

It's a long while before Charlie responds. Never one to give up an argument, I'm sure he's looking for his counterpoint.

"So how come the Cullens haven't gone on a murderous rampage from their 'thirst'?" Charlie folds his arms across his chest, surely thinking he's backed Peter into a corner.

"Oh, they've all gone on their 'murderous rampages' from time to time. All except fer Rose and Carlisle. One of 'em slips up, and they all jus' move an' start over in another state, or country as it were."

"Sounds like I need to broaden my search," Charlie mutters as he walks back to his computer.

_It's time to pull out the big guns, Peter. Dear, God. I hope you have big guns._

"Chief, I understand yer need for justice here, but yer gonna wind up gettin' lots of innocent people killed."

_Yes, the Volturi Card! _

"Yeah, I heard your threat earlier, and you don't scare me. You don't even have fangs for cryin' out loud and you fuckin' sparkle. Not exactly the scary monster of my nightmares."

I can't help but laugh. Peter lets out a chuckle, too. The mental picture forms of Peter looming over my bed, shirtless, lit up like a disco ball. _'Boo, baby.'_ I let out a huge giggle snort before I can smack my own mouth shut. Peter eyes me weirdly.

"I'm sorry, babe, but you do sparkle."

He rolls his eyes and looks away, trying to hide a smile. I make a mental note to berate him mercilessly about his sparkly complexion later.

"It's not my threat to make, Chief. There's a vampire ... government, I guess you could say. Only it's more like a dictatorship or a monarchy."

_From what I'd heard about the Volturi, I'd say dictatorship was more accurate, emphasis on the 'dick'._

Charlie looks at Peter expectantly.

"They're called the Volturi, an' they are ruled by three powerful vampires. There are rules for us to follow, not many, but the chief among 'em is to keep our existence a secret from all humans. If they find out that you an' Bella know about us, they'll kill you an' anyone else who knows the truth. That includes the Quileutes."

"Uh hu. Some mysterious, powerful vampires. And where do these 'Volturi' live?"

"In Volterra, Italy."

"So, how are three vampires in Italy going to find out that two humans in podunk Washington know about vampires?"

"I've suspected fer years that they keep a closer eye on the Cullens than they do most covens. The way the Cullens live—in the public eye, pretendin' to be humans—makes them more likely to pick up a pet or have someone figure 'em out." Peter looks at me with a smile. He gives me too much credit. I was force-fed the Quileute legends as a kid and my first boyfriend was a werewolf. Vampires weren't too far of a stretch, all things considered.

"So the Cullens are on the 'no-fly' list. Got it." Charlie rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Sorry, I'm not buyin' the load of shit you're tryin' to sell me."

"Would ya believe it if it came from someone else?"

"Like who?"

"Dr. Cullen. He's been to Volterra. In fact, he stayed with the Volturi fer a number a years. He has books about 'em. Paintin's. I don't know how else to show ya this is real—real dangerous, too."

"And how am I supposed to trust a vampire?"

"Well, sir. You've trusted werewolves."

"Werewolves don't kill people." Dad doesn't say it with much conviction.

"They have in the past. I've heard Carlisle talk about the accidents. Humans, usually the werewolves' wives, were accidently killed during the wolves' transition."

"Look at Emily. _Sam_ did that to her." Damn you, _Muskrat Love_.

"Really?" I nod, thankful he's actually starting to believe.

"You know the stories, Dad. You sat around the same campfires I did. They're all true."

"I'm beginning to see that. Still, they don't mention anything about these Volturi people."

I sigh, frustrated. "Would you really expect Native American werewolf legends to mention the Volturi; the _vampire_ governing body? Can we just go talk to Carlisle ... after a nap. It's 3am and I am dead tired." Charlie gives me a strange look. "What?" I question.

"Fine. I'll take you home, Bells." He turns his attention on Peter. "But your ass is stayin' here. You understand me? If I get back and you're gone, I'm sending out every squad car in this county and the next three over after you."

"I'm not movin', sir."

I squeeze Peter's hand and mouth the words, "be good" to him before getting up from the filthy cot. My shoulders feel stiff and achy. I miss my bed, but I know I'll miss Peter more, iron bars and questionable—no, unmistakable—body fluids and all. Especially on the five minute drive home with nothing to distract my dad. I'm not sure what would be worse, fifteen bazillion questions flung at me in rapid succession, or a cold, awkward silence.

I look back at Peter to see him make a cross over his chest. It's hard to fight the urge to lean down and kiss him, but my dad would likely die of an aneurysm if I did that.

"Go easy on him." My eyes are still locked on Peter as I say it.

"Not a chance," Charlie answers.

Charlie refills his coffee mug before slinging his coat over his shoulder and walking out the door. I follow after him, my stomach in knots.

I slide into the front seat of the cruiser and do a mental countdown.

_Three … two … one._

"Out of all the guys on this planet, _you_ had to pick a vampire." Charlie's hands grip the steering wheel too tight as we back out of the gravel parking lot.

_And there it is_, I sigh.

"Do you think you'll ever be able to get past the whole vampire thing and see that underneath it all he's a good person?"

"You're askin' me if I can get past the fact that he kills people? No. I don't think so, Bella."

"Great, so you're judging him on a choice that he didn't make for himself. It's not like he was born this way. He was changed, _forced_ into this life." The anger in my voice surprises me. And now I have Lady Gaga stuck in my head.

Charlie stares straight ahead out the window, his jaw firmly set.

We sit in silence until we pull into the driveway.

"When do you want me to pick you up?" Charlie still won't look at me.

"Give me four hours."

"Fine."

I slide along the seat, trying to bear as little weight on my arms as possible.

"And, Dad, don't lay into him. You do realize that it would take no effort for him to break out of the handcuffs and the cell. He's trying to make a good impression. The least you could do is _attempt_ to be nice."

All I get is a grumble in response. I turn and step out of the car, slamming the door behind me for effect. _Son-of-a-monkey's-uncle. Fuck that hurt._

Climbing up the stairs, I make a straight path to the shower.

I manage to wash my hair using my long-handled sponge they gave me from the hospital, trying not to think about the fact that up until now, I've only ever used it to wash my feet. Finally, after scrubbing my skin nearly raw, I think the only DNA I have left on my body is my own.

I barely remember my head hitting my pillow before Charlie is knocking impatiently on my door.

"Give me a minute," I grumble into my pillow.

I tug on my nicest pair of sweat pants—barely-faded black cotton without the elastic ankle cuffs—and tug out the wrinkles in my button down shirt. My hair's a mess, but there's nothing I can do about it now.

Sighing, I open the door to find Charlie leaning against the wall. Heavy bags now hang under his eyes and his skin looks pale. It reminds me of the first time I saw him after waking up from surgery after my _lovely_ stay with Maria.

I hate what all of this is doing to him.

He jerks his head toward the stairs and I lead the way. I can't help but smile seeing Peter in the back of the squad car. His shoulders are hunched, his hands between his legs—probably still in cuffs. He looks strangely innocent. Well, as innocent as someone handcuffed in the back of a squad car could look.

I have half a mind to slide into the backseat with him, but decide against it. Charlie is being pretty cooperative for the time being, agreeing to at least hear Carlisle out. I don't want to give him any reason to back out of this.

I climb into the front seat. "So, how did the last four hours go?"

"Perfect. In fact, we're goin' huntin' this weekend." Peter's voice drips with sarcasm.

"Well, I guess it couldn't have been that bad. I mean you're still here."

Peter opens his mouth to respond, but Charlie climbs in the cab, his eyes passing back and forth between us. I turn around in my seat as he shuts the door.

"Do you know where the Cullens live, Dad?"

He doesn't respond but puts the car into drive.

_I guess so._

If I thought my drive to the house was full of awkward silence, this is five-hundred times worse. Charlie's mouth stays set in a thin line, his dark eyes constantly darting back and forth between the road, Peter, and I.

I have half a mind to throw myself out of the car and kiss the ground when we arrive at the Cullen's house. Dr. Cullen is already at the door, a kind smile on his face. I can already see Alice's black hair behind his right shoulder. _Great. My best friend._

Carlisle grasps Charlie's hand in both of his, and to Charlie's credit, he doesn't pull away or look shocked from the coldness of his grasp. There's no use in keeping up appearances now.

Carlisle ushers us into the living room. Esme immediately appears with a tray of what I'm assuming to be lemonade and a plate of cookies in her outstretched arms.

Charlie waves her off. "Thank you, Mrs. Cullen, but this isn't a social visit." He tugs his belt up in what is a very cliché cop move. "It's come to my attention what your true … _identity_ is, and more importantly, what your _diet_ is. Now, I know that you Cullens make a great effort to refrain from harming any people, but the same can't be said about this one, here." He gestures to Peter, who is still handcuffed, not even bothering to say his name. "I'd like to see him tried in a court of law, or worse, but I've been told there's some 'big, bad scary vampires' that would kill me an' Bells if I ratted him out." Charlie's voice is mocking when he mentions the Volturi.

Carlisle remains impassive. "Yes, the Volturi. They would come down on all of us if they found out that humans knew of our existence. They would kill us all, my family included. If you'll come with me to my study, I can show you all the text that I have surrounding them, though most of the information is put forth as legend. I can indeed vouch that they are very real, and very dangerous."

Charlie just nods, and we all follow Carlisle up the staircase to his office.

I sidle up to Charlie, "Can you _please_ uncuff him? This is ridiculous," I whisper under my breath for God knows why. Everyone in the house can hear me. Hell, if Edward's here—

"Present!" I hear his voice call out from down the hall. _Great._

A vision in glitter appears in the distance. As he approaches, I see Edward is wearing a heavily sequined double breasted jacket with coattails over a pair of impossibly skinny jeans. His eye makeup matches the exact shade of plum flawlessly and is equally as shiny.

Dad nearly chokes on his own saliva when he sees him. It's hilarious, really. He actually has to brace himself on the wall to get his breathing back under control.

"Dad, you remember Edward. Edward, police chief Swan. Remember in high school when Angela had Mrs. Edward Cullen written all over her binder with little hearts around it?"

He looks at me incredulously, his eyes bulging. "Um, no. I don't remember that." He clears his throat. "Edward, is it? Eh, nice to meet you." Hesitantly, he extends his hand to the _truly_ sparkly vampire.

Edward grabs just the tip of Charlie's fingers and curtseys. Yup, he damned curtsied.

"Were you going somewhere, son?" Carlisle asks, expectantly.

"Yes, father. I was just going to visit Steve." He squeals with excitement before his face falls into a melodramatic pout. "This is his last night in town before he starts touring again." Edward turns his attention back to my father, as if any information that came from his mouth would be interesting to the man. "My boyfriend is famous," he brags, before sashaying down the hall and to the stairs.

Charlie leans into me. "Did he say … _boyfriend_?"

"Really, Dad? The glitter tux wasn't obvious enough?"

The next two hours pass by quickly. It's easy to get absorbed into Carlisle's stories. Not so absorbed, though, that you don't realize it when a certain demented pixy starts brushing your hair without even asking. Creepy, yes, but also helpful, considering I can't lift my arms high enough to do it myself. I stop her, though, when she starts using my head as a living pin cushion with the amount of bobby pins she's using. Then, out of nowhere, a mirror is thrust in my face. I have to admit that she did a fabulous job, though the elaborate braids that wind into a French twist are slightly out of place on my sweatpants-clad body.

"So, red eyes drink human blood like nig nog over here, and the gold eyes drink from animals," Charlie confirmed with a nod.

"Yes. That is correct." Carlisle had already told Charlie about the Volturi, and from what I could tell, he seemed to accept the story. "The animal blood doesn't give us the same … satisfaction as drinking from a human does, but it does keep us sustained. The Chinese are currently working on producing a better synthetic blood. They are trying to perfect the artificial hemoglobin, which is the oxygen-carrying component of blood. Their efforts are to improve synthetic blood for medical purposes, but I hope that one day it may replace our need for human blood all together and be a better alternative to animal blood. I, myself, have been performing my own research in my spare time."

"That's great and all, doc, but in the meantime people are still getting killed." Charlie turns to glare at Peter.

"I can personally vouch that Peter is very much in control of his bloodlust. I wouldn't allow him to work at the hospital if I believed otherwise. As much as I would love for him to adhere to our diet, it would be very challenging for him. He would be unable to be around any humans for quite some time." Bless Carlisle for trying, but I already know Charlie won't see his reasoning.

"I'm not seeing a problem there. Switch to hunting animals instead of humans and lay low for a while. There's no harm in that."

"When I say that he will be unable to be around humans for quite some time, I mean months … years possibly." Carlisle eyes me, "I doubt he will be able to stay away for that long."

I can feel the blush coloring my cheeks. And he's right. I couldn't stand being away from Peter for days, much less years.

"Again, I don't see the problem. Until he goes vegetarian, as you call it, he won't be spending any time around my daughter. Those are my terms. It's either that or he's tried for murder."

This is my moment to pipe in. "I'm an adult, Charlie. You can't dictate who I can and cannot see. You also can't try a man for murder when you have no proof."

Charlie's face breaks out in a huge grin. "That's just the thing. I do have proof," he says as he rifles through his pockets, finally locating what he's looking for. "A taped confession."

The moment the small tape appears in his hand, it's swiped away by a black blur. I hear a crunching sound and look to see Alice breaking the tape into small, little fragments before she pulls out the actual tape and shreds it.

Charlie looks like he's about to have a shit fit, but what can he do? He's not going to throw a punch at a girl who looks not a day over fifteen.

"Had. The correct phrase is you _had_ proof," she gloats with a finely manicured eyebrow raised in defiance.

I smile. _Way to go, bestie!_

"Trust me when I say that the tape wouldn't hold up in a court of law without any other evidence placing Peter at the scene of the crime. Do you have eyewitnesses?"

Charlie doesn't seem to know quite what to think about Alice. Then again, everyone I know pretty much has the same problem. Charlie lets out a gruff "no" under his breath.

"I didn't think so. That's not the way we operate. Keeping our existence a secret is our number one priority. Our survival depends on it. I, for one, won't let you turn Peter in and risk the safety of our family—"

"—Alice," Carlisle warns, but Alice barely misses a beat.

"No. You _know_ Peter won't stay away from Bella, and when he catches them together he will turn him in! I've seen it." Alice turns her dark eyes from her father back to my father. "I can see how your decisions will affect our future and you're going to get us _all_ killed. I won't let it happen."

It's truly scary when Alice turns her wrath on you. Dad looks like he's having a little trouble keeping up.

"Are you threatening me?" Charlie tries to put the same amount of venom in his voice to match Alice.

"Yes. I will kill you myself before I let you turn in Peter." She pauses, her eyes momentarily going dull, before a sinister smile spreads across her face. "No, I'll change you. Force you to keep the very secret you were going to reveal."

"Alice, there is no need to make threats toward the police chief." Carlisle turns back to Charlie. "I apologize for my daughter's harsh words. She is fiercely protective of her family, something I'm sure you can identify with." Carlisle reaches his arm out and Alice scurries to his side. "Our Alice has the gift of foresight. She can see the consequences of the decisions we make. Though, as our choices change, so does our future. She has seen that you are still undecided as to whether or not you should turn Peter over to the courts. I must ask if there is anything we can do to sway your decision."

"Of course. Keep him away from my daughter. It's as simple as that."

"As your Bella has said, she is an adult. We could no sooner cage Peter just as you cannot restrain Bella from doing as she pleases. What I meant was, is there anything we may do to assure you that Bella is safe with Peter?"

"No, there isn't."

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><p><strong>So, Charlie isn't coming around to the idea of his daughter dating a vampire. I can't exactly say I blame him, though.<strong>


	26. Chapter 26

**Sorry this was so late. I meant to get more accomplished with this chapter but got carried away with Bella's birthday. We'll get back to the Charlie dilemma next chapter.**

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><p>It's My Party and I'll Be a Snarky Bitch If I Want To<p>

"She's doing _what_?"

"Planning yer birthday party," Peter replies sheepishly. I swear, I think it's the only time 'sheepish' can describe Peter.

"And you didn't think to say, 'thanks, but no fucking way'?"

"Er … no?"

I'm pacing the floor at this point. I mean, what in the hell is he thinking letting some crazy vampire who thinks she's my best friend plan my very human, very important birthday party? My twenty-first birthday. My _last_ birthday.

"It didn't sound half bad. A club in Port Angeles for drinks and back to the Cullen's for gifts afterward. Nothin' too crazy."

"Gifts? They got me _gifts_?" Okay, now I feel a little bad. "But they barely even know me. Carlisle, maybe, but he was kinda like my boss. What's he going to get me, an expensive fountain pen? Isn't that what rich people who don't know you give as gifts?"

"I have no idea what they got ya, and please don't make me ask Edward. I try to avoid conversations with that one as much as I can."

I sit down with a huff on my bed and Peter sits next to me, the bed groaning with his extra weight. He pushes back a piece of hair that's made it loose from my ponytail—which, I'm happy to say, I did myself.

"What do _you_ want to do fer yer birthday?"

I turn toward him, lifting my hands to fiddle with the top button if his shirt as I try my best pout. Looking up at him from under my eyelashes, with what I hope is a sexy look, I reply. "You."

He chuckles, the side of his mouth going up in a crooked smile. "You have me."

"You know what I mean, Peter. It's been _forever_. First Maria, and then my stupid shoulders getting nearly ripped from their sockets. You haven't touched me in like … a _month_."

He grips my face in his cold hands, brushing his thumb across my cheek and over my bottom lip. My hands grip his, not wanting to give him a chance to pull away from me, even though I know I couldn't put up much of a fight if he does. Still, it's the closest we've been since the fuck-storm happened, and a girl's got to take what she can get.

I lean in, my eyes pleading with him, and he gives in. Thank you _God_, he gives in. His mouth is cool but firm on my skin, parting my lips and exploring. His hands hold me carefully, one behind my neck and the other on the small of my back, as if I'm breakable. But I have to remember, to him I _am_.

The bed groans again, and he's on top of me, one of his legs between my own as his hand deftly unsnaps my bra all while his lips never leave mine. He seems calm and cool, while I'm the rabid animal, mauling him with mouth, teeth, and tongue as I rip at his clothes. Patience is _not_ a virtue I'm capable of right now.

His shirt is now on the floor and I'm trying and failing miserably to get his pants off. My fingers are suddenly uncoordinated sausages. I curse and he chuckles.

"It's not a race, Bella."

If it is, I'm getting to the finish line first, hell I might even make it around for a second lap. Peter pulls my hand away from his crotch and I grumble in protest. But all is soon forgotten, my mind blissfully blank, when his knee rubs against the part of me that's begging the most for attention. I'm like a teenage boy on his maiden voyage, afraid of making a very wet spot from just a little dry humping.

With my head thrown back, hips arched forward, and moaning loudly, I've almost made it to the finish line. My hands blindly grope Peter's torso, and I finally find a body part I can grip and cling tightly to a bicep and a forearm as I ride out the home stretch.

When the last muscle in my body uncurls, I dare to open my eyes. Peter is staring down at me, his eyes still nearly black with hunger, and a smile that is on of verge of breaking into a laugh.

"Shut up. It's been a while."

"Really? 'Cause I don't recall you ever humpin' my leg before."

I blush despite myself, part from anger and part from embarrassment. "Will you just fuck me properly so we can forget this ever happened?"

"I would, but your Dad might not appreciate that, and I am tryin' to make a good impression."

"He's almost here, isn't he?" Peter purses his lips and nods. Cue major hissy fit. "Fuckity, fuck, fuck," I yell as I throw my pillows off the bed, stomping and cursing like a mad woman.

"Are ya done?"

I blow my hair out of my eyes with a huff. "Yes. I need to go to the bathroom." _And clean up the mess I've made._

"See ya tomorrow, Belle." He walks to my window, his boots making not even a whisper of noise on the hardwood floors. Without protest, my window opens—thank you WD-40—and he disappears just as I hear the front door open.

…

Tomorrow evening finds me sat at the bar of Catch 21, staring down at my ID which declares me officially of age. The bartender grabs my ID, checking the date as a smile spreads across his face.

"Oooohhh! Looks like we have a very special birthday girl! You kn …" My murderous glare cuts him off mid-sentence.

"If there's confetti or singing involved, I will cut you," I say half to the bartender and half to Peter, though it's really the spiky haired demon I should be focusing my wrath on. "Oh, and I'll have something fruity with one of those umbrellas in it."

The bartender just nods and goes to work.

I feel arms wrap around my waist and I sigh and close my eyes, until a scent washes over me that is _not_ Peter's. I stiffen instantly, turning around to see who's holding me.

"Little, feisty Bella. You'll make a fantastic vampire," Emmett beams. "So when's the big day?"

"Um, soon I think." _As soon as I win Charlie over_. "Where's your wife?"

"Birthdays aren't really her thing." He shrugs and lets his arms fall to his sides before sitting himself between a bored Carlisle and a zoned-out Alice.

"I understand." And I do. Out of all the Cullens, Rosalie is the most straightforward with her feelings about me. I appreciate that, even if she is a bitch. Honest bitch is a giant leap above just bitch bitch. And speaking of bitch, crazy bitch has gone out of her way to make this birthday incredibly uncomfortable. From the inch-thick layer of makeup that covers my face, to the too-tight black dress that I can barely breathe in, to the group of very-uptight vampires sitting at a bar that doesn't serve them—this whole thing _screams_ uncomfortable.

Everything is momentarily forgotten, though, when my drink arrives. I knock it back in three, very unladylike gulps as I twirl my umbrella between my index finger and thumb.

"Keep 'em coming." The bartender just nods and shuffles away.

"If yer gonna slam 'em back like that, ya might as well be doin' shots," Peter purrs in my ear.

I suppress a shiver, the alcohol already spreading warmth through my veins, melting my tension away. "Nah, they burn on the way down. Vodka doesn't." I turn to face him, my nose brushing his cheek. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk, offering me shots like that."

Peter smiles. I feel it against my skin rather than see it. "I don't need to get ya drunk to have my way with you."

I shrug. "True, but I do need some liquid courage if I'm going to dance." He pulls away from me and his eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, we're gonna dance. Birthday girl says so." I look toward the dance floor where Edward is dancing to Lady Gaga's "Poker Face." I have to admit, the boy's got some moves. Disturbingly sexual moves, but moves none the less.

In a way, I envy him. It's obvious he cares little about what anyone else thinks. The silver hot pants kind of scream that point. Still, he lives his life without worrying about everyone's' opinions even though he, more than anyone else, knows _exactly_ what they think of him. His dark eyes turn my direction as proof, and the strangest vampire I know gives me a dazzling smile. In a strange turn of events, I realize Edward probably knows us better than anyone else, given his gift. And that fact is more than unsettling.

Thankfully, my next drink has arrived, but it's sorely underdressed. I look pointedly at the bartender, gesturing at the empty spot on the rim of my glass where a cute little umbrella should sit. Without a word, he retrieves another umbrella and plunks it in my glass. I'm sure he'll be spitting in my next drink if he hasn't already.

After drink number four, things get dicey. Vague flashes of the pulsating lights of the dance floor, Peter's arms around me as I rest my head on his silent chest, the aroma of urine and the cool press of porcelain beneath my cheek, and a row of ten or so mini umbrellas are all I remember before I'm watching the scenery blur by my open window. The wind on my face is the only thing that's keeping the contents of my stomach from making a reappearance.

"I am never doing that again," I mumble to myself. We slow down and pull into a McDonalds drive through. Peter orders me coffee, black, with a six-piece mystery meat mcnuggets.

"Unlike the alcohol, you should drink this slowly. It'll help sober you up. I used to drink chicory after a heavy night of drinkin'. They say it helps cleanse the blood."

I sip it slowly and my head spins, throbbing like a mother fucker. I want to ask him about the chicory, about his human life, because I know his memories are few and far between, but I doubt I'll be able to remember anything after I sleep tonight. Sleep. Yes, that's all I want right now. Sleep, then sex. Well, sleep, then a shower, and then sex. "Do I really have to go open presents now? I just wanna go to bed."

"The chief'll have my head if I bring ya home piss drunk. Either way, we need to sober ya up."

"Fine. I hope there's cake," I mutter into my cup of coffee.

And there is cake. Three tiers of spongy white cake with purple and white frosting. _Three tiers_ and I'm the only one here who will eat it. Everywhere I look, the purple and white is repeated in streamers and table clothes. I mean, the Cullen's living room is normally white—a startling, colorless white without a speck of dirt in sight. Then again, they don't eat in here. That would be disgusting. White stained with red fills my vision and my hand flies to my mouth as a wave of nausea turns my stomach.

"Maybe you should sit." Edward's voice tinkles over my shoulder, and ice-cold, jewel-fingered hands force me down to the couch. _Thanks_, I think, knowing he'll get the message.

Two Alices skips into my vision and squeal, "present time!"

After really focusing, I get the two Alices to merge back into one_. The world should thank me for that. _Now, I'm just ready to get this over with_._ I plaster what I hope doesn't look like a fake smile on my face.

"Carlisle and Esme first," the single Alice dictates.

Carlisle takes a seat across from me, smiling gently as Esme sits beside him. He leans toward me and hands me an envelope with a tiny purple bow on top.

"You guys really didn't have to do this." _Really_, I feel weird accepting gifts from them.

"Nonsense. You'll be family soon," Mother Dearest pipes up cheerily but her voice is like ice.

I flash a tight smile as I pull at the bow and tear open the envelope. Inside are two tickets … to _Rio de Janeiro_. My eyes bulge out of my head.

"We own an island fifty miles off the coast," Carlisle explains. "It's small, but secluded. There are no people inhabiting the island. We thought it would be easier for your _transition_. Edward informed us you wish to adhere to our diet." _What! They own an island? Who owns an island besides maybe The Trump?_

"I … yes, I do want to go veg, but I can't accept this. It's too much." Plane tickets, private islands—my head is spinning. I place the tickets on the glass table in front of me and slide it back. Before I take my hand from the envelope, a perfectly manicured hand with short, neatly polished mauve fingernails stops me. I look up into Mrs. Cullen's honey colored eyes. Out of all the Cullens, she might scare me the most.

"We insist," she purrs. Clearly, she won't take no for an answer.

"Erm. Thank you."

"You're quite welcome." Dr. Cullen wraps an arm around his wife's shoulders, pulling her back against the couch with him as he sits back.

"My turn," Emmett bellows, making me jump an inch from the white, leather seat. He hands me a small white box, also wrapped with a small purple bow. Before I can undo the bow, he blurts, "It's an X-box controller. I used the label maker to put your name on it. Welcome to the family, Bells. Halo nights are on Thursdays."

This time my smile is genuine as I hold said X-box controller in my hand, looking at the label that reads "BELLS." It's so simple and thoughtful, that I really want to give Emmett a hug but remember that I like breathing more. He tends to get a little overzealous.

"Thanks, Emmett. As soon as I'm out of my murdering-the-townsfolk-phase of vampire-hood, I'll have to join you for game night."

"Yes!" He does a fist pump in the air and flashes a dimpled smile.

"Our turn," Alice sing-songs and prances toward me.

"Oh no. I'd like the record to state that I had nothin' to do with this." Jasper has me worried now. What the hell did that psycho faerie get me?

"Fine," she huffs, "this is from Edward and I. It's a collaborative effort. He pulled it from your brain and I made it come to life."

"It's not Chucky, is it, 'cause I've had nightmares about that doll since I was five." I eye the box skeptically. It looks about the right length.

"No, honey. Nothing scary, but it _is_ something I plucked from one of your dreams." Edward's words send me scrambling in my mind, trying to figure out what it could be as Alice elbows him in the side. The resulting sound is like two stones scraping past each other.

_I got nothing_, my brain going absolutely blank. Carefully, I pull away—you guessed it—another purple bow from the white box. This bow, however, I decide to place right on top of Peter's head. Grimacing, he pulls off the offending bow a split second later.

"You're no fun." I pout. He lifts an eyebrow in challenge and I get the unspoken meaning behind the look. Yes, I'd rather be unwrapping _him_ for my birthday. And as soon as we're done here, I hope to be doing just that.

_Focus, Bella. Focus_. The sooner I'm out of here, the sooner I can be doing what I really want for my birthday. I return my gaze to the white box in front of me, carefully lifting the corners. Whatever's inside is still concealed in heavy, white tissue paper. _Oh, God. Please don't be lingerie_.

"Nope. It's something better than that," Edward answers my unspoken question. Somehow, I'm still not comforted by his words.

Warily, I slide the folded tissue away to reveal something white and shiny. My brows pinch together in confusion. I grasp the material and it's rubbery in my hands. Picking it up from the box, I catch the glint off a silver zipper and a flash of red and white stripes. My eyes bug out of my head as the box and the material slips from my hands to the floor. A pleather red and white candy striper costume—an exact replica from my dream—falls out of the box and to the floor for all the world to see.

"Oh my _God_." I throw myself back against the couch and cover my already reddening face with my hands.

"Oh, honey, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. We have no secrets in this house, and you're hardly the exhibitionist." I distantly register Edward's words, getting stuck on 'in this house,' which is suddenly the last place I want to be. I stand up, keeping my eyes trained on the floor.

"We just wanted to give you a chance to live out your dreams," Alice's voice is strained, like she's the one who's upset. "Should we have gotten Charlotte down here for the renaissance dungeon fantasy instead?"

I literally choke on my own saliva. Not able to take the weight of their expectant gazes on me anymore. I bolt. Once I'm out of the house, I shut the door behind me and lean against it, taking as much fresh air into my lungs as possible.

There's the distinct sound of the crunch of gravel and I look up to see Peter standing from a crouch a few yards away.

"Please, just take me home," I plead.

He walks toward me, the silver of his belt buckle glinting in the moonlight. "But you forgot your presents."

I roll my eyes wanting desperately to change the subject before he asks me for details. I remember the dream clearly enough. Remember thinking that dream-Bella was all confidence and sex appeal. _She_ could wear heals without teetering. Could take her hair down from a bun and shake it out without getting whiplash. I wish I could be dream Bella, and maybe someday I could, but that's definitely not today. Especially not after having my dirty laundry put on display in front of my would-be family.

Peter is in front of me now, just inches away. I finally lift my eyes to meet his face. He's smiling lightly, but it doesn't look mocking. His red eyes look almost black in the dim light, either that or he's hungry … or _hungry_.

From behind his back he produces my presents—_all_ of them. I now realize there are matching thigh highs with the costume as they are currently draped over Peter's forearm. I raise an eyebrow at him and cross my arms over my chest.

"You don't have to wear it, but at least take it. If ya don't, Edward'll probably prance around the house in it, and then I'll have to gouge my eyes out."

I try not to laugh, but a snort escapes me. So, I grab the pile of presents and march to the passenger side of my truck. The driver's side door closes with the loud crunch of metal and we're alone in the cab.

Peter turns the key in the ignition and backs down the Cullen's long, winding driveway. The first few minutes of the drive pass in silence.

"I still haven't given ya my gift."

I turn toward him with surprise.

"Well, ya didn't think I'd let yer birthday pass without givin' ya anythin', did ya?"

I swallow. "Um, no." A chuckle. "It isn't a Magneto helmet is it? 'Cause I could have used one of those back at the Cullens."

"Should I know what yer talkin' about?" His brow furrows as he spares me a glance.

"The X-Men movies? You know, Patrick Stewart, the mind reader in a wheelchair, and Hugh Jackman looking all sexy as Wolverine?"

Peter continues to look straight ahead, shaking his head. "I prefer books over movies."

"Well, there's some you are definitely going to have to see … but X-Men isn't necessarily one of them." In my head, I start making on list of must-see movies, but my train of thought stops abruptly. How long will it be after my change before I can sit with him on a couch and have a movie marathon without thinking solely about … _blood_. I'm trying to imagine life as a newborn vampire and suddenly realize I know very little about what to expect. "What's it like, being a newborn? And I mean _really_ like, no sugar-coating anything for me."

Peter's hands tighten on the steering wheel, and I'm wondering if my vehicle can handle this conversation right now.

"Ask me that again tomorrow. Tonight's yer birthday, and it hasn't been a great one so far. I'd like fer you to give me the opportunity to make it up to ya." He pauses, his lips flattening out into a thin line as my hormones and blood flow surges just thinking about all the ways that Peter can 'make it up to me.'

My truck lurches to the right, off the road, groaning and jumping over the now-uneven ground before coming to a grinding stop.

I reach out to brace myself against the dash and look to Peter wide-eyed.

"Sorry. That didn't go as smoothly as I wanted." He runs a hand through his closely shorn hair, and I wonder if it's a habit from when he had longer hair. I'm about to ask him when he goes completely still—and I mean as still as a statue still.

It feels as though minutes have ticked by when the silence in the cab becomes too stifling for me to take.

"Peter?"

His head snaps in my direction, faster than my eyes can register the movement, and I jump in response.

"Sorry, I—" His voice fades and he has this bewildered expression on his face.

I feel like I need a Vampire Operations Manual, because mine seems to be malfunctioning.

"Everything okay?" I quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I just—I feel like I should say somethin' before I give this to you. It means a lot to me, has a history longer than mine, and I wanted you to have somethin' with meaning. Somethin' money can't buy." He looks up at me and a smile stretches across my face.

"You just did, Peter."

He lets out a chuckle, and then ducks his head. _Oh my God, is he … nervous?_ He shifts his legs in the driver's seat, angling his left hip so he can reach into his pocket. When his hand returns, he's holding something—something small.

I squint my eyes, not that it helps in the dark. The only light illuminating the cab is the moon and the occasional car lights that speed by on the road. All I know is that whatever it is, it fits in his hand, and he's expecting me to take it.

Hesitantly, I reach for the object. My fingers graze soft velvet that gives with the slightest pressure—a bag. I lift it and feel the weight in my hand. It's heavier than I thought it would be. _Not a ring_, my mind tells me, relieved. The top of the bag is cinched by drawstrings and I slide it open and reach inside. What I feel is cold, hard, and oval shaped with little points that surround the outside. I can feel this rather than see it.

I grope the headliner for the cab light and flick the switch. What I find, nestled in my hand, is a cameo. A profile of a woman rose against a soft pink background. The whole thing is surrounded by gold filigrees. Carefully, I run my finger along the dips and curves of the carving of the woman, knowing that no machine did this. "It's beautiful," I whisper.

"It was my mother's. We weren't a wealthy family, but this cameo was passed down generation after generation from mother to daughter. My mother outlived my only sister, so she had no one else to give it to but me. I'm not sure how old it is, but the relief is carved from shell, not cast from resin. The chain in the only part that's new."

I hand it back to him and turn away to catch a moments confusion on his face before he understands. I sweep my hair to one side and he clasps the brooch around my neck. It feels heavy but right resting at the base of my throat.

I turn back around to face him. "This is definitely the best birthday gift yet."

"Yet? Do you expect more?"

I bite my lip and smile. "Of course. I expect you. All of you."


End file.
